Whenever you need me
by Blackphoenixfeather
Summary: Charlotte Black had a dark past, seeing the ones she loved slipping away from her life, though she never let that stop her from enjoying the family she still had. When she finally starts at Hogwarts, Charlotte will made new friends, discover things about her past and reencounter an old friend, while she deal with the feelings building inside of her for her very best friend.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! This is my first fic ever. The idea was in my head for a while and only now I took courage to post it. This has been published at quotev too. Well, i hope you enjoy it and review to say what you think. I'll try to update as soon as I can. Have fun!**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 1 - Prologue**

.

 _London, 13 February 1980_

 _"You're looking ready to pop up anytime now, Belle" a pretty four-month pregnant redhead said brightly to her best friend._

 _"I know right" Belle, a beautiful brunette replied, while rubbing her swollen belly adoringly "I can barely wait to see my baby"_

 _It was way past two p.m. and the cold winter breeze was blowing through the slits on the window. Two figures sat by the fireplace soaking in all its warmth, both of them, apparently waiting for someone to come as they constantly looked out the windows or stared at the door, with smiles adorning their faces._

 _"Do you know the gender yet? Sirius doesn't, it seems…" the redhead asked._

 _"Both Sirius and I agreed to let it be a surprise," Belle said. "Although, I confess it took a little bit of convincing to do it." The brunette let out a small chuckle._

 _Amused, the other woman could only laugh in response._

 _"If there anyone in the world to make him change, it would be you. I never saw you so happy."_

 _"You have no idea, Lily"_

 _Lily and Isabelle have been friends since their first year at Hogwarts. Being born in a pureblood family wasn't easy, but Isabelle never had much too fret about for her parents were not pureblood maniacs like many others around. She was taught blood equality and for that she was grateful, since most of her friends wouldn't have been accepted and deemed as scum._

 _She recalled the day they met – Lily and the Marauders, as they liked to be called – like it was just yesterday._

oOo

 _Belle was running late, very uncommon of her who always liked to be punctual. But it wasn't her fault really. She was just so excited to go to Hogwarts for the first time that she kept forgetting her things – her toothbrush, books and even her trunk – so she needed to return to her bedroom to get her things and go to the car._

 _Again._

 _When she finally arrived at King's Cross it was almost eleven, so Isabelle took off, dodging people sometimes muttering a soft 'sorry' after bumping into someone. After what it seems like yeas, but was just seconds, Belle and her parents finally made to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, she let herself be hugged briefly, took her trolley and then ran inside the big scarlet train._

 _She knew it would be hard to find a place to sit, however she didn't think it would be that packed. Everywhere was full and she feared she would have to stand the whole way to the castle._

 _Walking through the small corridor, Belle was almost sliding down the floor and sitting there, when she finally found a compartment with only two people in it. Sighing with relief, she knocked on the glass door gaining the attention of the two people._

 _Isabelle's POV_

 _A cute eleven-year-old with flaming hair color and bright green eyes looked up as I made my way inside the small room. I gave her a small smile felling shy all of a sudden._

 _"Hi… Can I sit here? I can't find anywhere else… but it is alright if you don't want me here… you don't right? I'll just go…" I could not help but mumble when I got nervous._

 _The girl was just staring at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement, but she seemed to snap out of it when my hand touched the door handle._

 _"Sit down. We don't mind."_

 _That would be an understatement._

 _I thought as I took a peek at the other person inside the compartment who looked as though wanted to set me on fire with his own eyes._

 _A boy no older than myself with greasy black hair falling down to his neck, pale skin and dark icy eyes who long lost interest in the Defense Against the Dark Arts for Beginners that was now resting in his lap. He was sitting in the far corner of the room as tough I portrayed a very contagious disease that he was trying to run away from, and at the same time those eyes glared at me blaming me for his loss of attention._

 _That almost got me running out the door, but as a turned around to the redhead, there was something so sincere, so alluring about her, that I did as she told me._

 _"Thank you," I said nervously "I'm Isabelle. Isabelle Selwyn"_

 _Extending my hand towards her, I waited._

 _"Lily Evans." She shook my hand firmly "Nice to meet you. And that…" she mentioned to the sulking boy across us "is Severus Snape"_

 _He merely nodded forcefully like he had something moving his head up and down against his will._

 _"Cool"_

 _That was the only thing I could say. Not very smart._

 _Thankfully, Lily seemed to understand my uneasiness because she tried to start a conversation._

 _"So… what are you? A mean, blood related. Not that it matters, of course." She said that last part as if afraid I was offended by the question._

 _"Pureblood," I responded "but as you said, it doesn't matter… What about you?"_

 _The redhead appeared relived after my answer she quickly spoke._

 _"I am a Muggleborn," Lily confessed "Much of a shock for me and my parents, you know… being muggles and all. But they accepted fairly well, looked excited and proud of me in a way. However, I don't think Petunia took it very well… she's my sister, you see." She told me after seeing confusion on my face._

 _"Mhmm… She just jealous of you. That much is obvious."_

 _"That's what Severus told me once."_

 _At his name, said boy peered above the book he continued reading, probably trying to forget my presence altogether._

 _However, before he could open his mouth to retort, someone opened the compartment's door and then four first-year boys made their way in._

 _The first one had unruly black hair sticking in weird directions – he knows there is such thing called hairbrush? –, hazel eyes covered by glasses and a stuck up attitude about him. Obviously, he was the leader of their 'pack'._

 _The second one, who was now besides messy head, was fairly handsome even for his age. He was slim and carried himself with grace and posture, as if a royalty. For all I knew, he could be. He definitely had the looks. Silky dark hair cascading to his shoulders. It appeared so soft, and she almost had the impulse to lean over and run her hands through it. Almost. He didn't need an inflated ego. The way his bright grey eyes surveyed the compartment eagerly and the slow sneer forming in his thin lips, told me enough to know about him._

 _Dung head._

 _But mom always told me not to judge a book by its cover. So…_

 _Bringing up the rear, were two guys who didn't quite belonged there. One of them was very tall with slight tattered clothes. Medium length sandy hair and pale complexion, although I could see some light scars on his face, like he's been scratched by a wild animal. His soft blue eyes stared at the floor and his hands were fidgeting with each other, as if he was nervous his friends would do something stupid._

 _Finally, a short pudgy looking boy with blond hair and scared blue eyes definitely seemed out of place. He was nowhere near as good looking as the others, and from what Belle gathered, would be afraid of his own shadow._

 _"It seems this place is in need of a cheer up. I am James. James Potter. Who are y—"_

 _James, the messy head with glasses trailed off, and I just noticed why the moment I followed his line of sight._

 _A certain Ms. Evans._

 _'Cute. Someone has a crush' I thought._

 _He was out of orbit, staring at her like she was the most marvelous thing he'd ever seen. Wouldn't be too surprised if he's started to drool over her, something I was almost sure it would happen any minute, had not a throat clearing snapped him out of his trance._

 _"Sirius Black," dung head introduced himself "and that is Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew." He finished pointing his thumb to the tall looking guy, that gave us a little embarrassed smile and then to the small boy, who only squeaked in response._

 _I heard of the Ancient House of Black. Pureblood freaks, the whole lot of them. Well, my parents once told me about one who's been burn off of the family tree._

 _Phineas Black, I guess. Apparently, he supported muggles rights._

 _Maybe not everyone in that cursed family is a lost cause._

 _Still, no one could blame me for thinking that boy in front of me, a snobby prat, what with the way he was looking at me, as if waiting for me to speak._

 _Wait._

 _He was still looking at me._

 _"What?" there was three people to choose from, so why should I be the one to introduce first?_

 _The looks I got were answer enough for me to know I had no choice but to talk._

 _"…okay. This is Lily Evans," I spun my head in her direction "That is Severus Snape and my name is Isabelle Selwyn." I stopped and gave them a glare as if asking 'happy now?'._

 _Nothing was said as they sat down – without being invited, mind you – and started talking between themselves, at least James and Sirius, about Quidditch, ignoring us. Though I could see James sneaking glances at Lily's way. Remus, like Severus, had focused his attention in his own book and Peter was just trying to make himself invisible._

 _"… Holyhead Harpies' got nothing on Ireland. But they no worse than the Tornadoes. Lost to 60 to 310 against Bulgaria, embarrassing really. The snitch was right in front of the guy. How could he not see it? He was their seeker, for Merlin's sake!" James ranted in frustration "That's why I am trying for the Quidditch time next year, first years aren't allowed to play, unfortunately. I want to be a chaser… been training since I was a child…"_

 _I wanted to say 'you're still a child, moron', but I could not help but grin at his determination, so I turned to Lily instead._

 _"Have you thought about what house do you want to be in? I think Ravenclaw would be great." I told her._

 _"I read Hogwarts: A History tons of times already and Ravenclaw looks like a good choice, but Gryffindor isn't that bad, either."_

 _I guess she was right. We were so absorbed in our topic, comparing houses and its qualities, that we didn't noticed that the boys had stopped talking and were listening to our conversation, until Sirius cut in._

 _"My whole family has been in Slytherin"_

 _"And I thought you were okay" James said playfully._

 _Sirius gave him a smirk. "Maybe I'll break tradition this year"_

 _"I want to be in Gryffindor. It's the best house of all!" James said enthusiastically._

 _"If you rather be brawny than brainy, I guess"_

 _That was the first time Severus Snape opened his mouth, much to Sirius and James displeasure who definitely looked offended by it._

 _"What do you mean?" James asked. Anyone looking closely would see a vein popping in his temple._

 _"Slytherin is the best house. Only the best end up there, everyone knows it. It is traditional as it always has since Hogwarts was built." Severus said and I could sense a fight building up._

 _"Only death-eaters end up there, you mean" James snapped "Just like you"_

 _At the background, Remus had long stopped reading, Peter, it seemed, was almost peeing his pants, me and Lily were trying to defuse the tension with no success, and James, Sirius and Severus stood up from their seats._

 _"Better than being a Gryffindork, always trying to act brave, when in fact they all sore losers"_

 _"Why don't you shut up, Snivellous?" Sirius sneered "Have you ever washed your hair? Don't come too close. Wouldn't want to have grease all over me."_

 _James laughed at Sirius' joke. Neither Remus, Lily and I did._

 _Actually, Lily looked positively furious, for she all but stood in a huff, taking mine and Snape's wrists and dragging us out of the compartment, all the way screaming at the two retards, whom now were goggling at the redhead in apprehension._

 _"…no right to call him that! Have you no manners?" she seethed in rage "You're both big prats and if I never have to see your faces again, it still would be too soon!" then she turned to us "Let's go find another place to stay. Evidently, this place has been infested, besides we need to change into our robes. We're almost there."_

 _With that, she only gave us enough time to get our belongings, then we took off._

oOo

 _The rest of the way to Scotland was made in silence, the three of us still too caught up in the confusion only minutes before. All the same, bad mood gave place to excitement as the train came to a full stop._

 _My first time walking through the Great Hall has been imprinted permanently in my mind. Ironically, the one thought that came was how magical that moment was. The lights, the exhilaration, the feelings and the people made the experience all the more worthwhile._

 _To summon up the sorting, the Marauders, Lily and I all got into Gryffindor, same as a few girls we met such as Marlene McKinnon, Molly Prewett_ _, a seventh year, and Alice Fortescue and a lovely boy called Frank Longbottom - a second and third-year students_ _. As for Severus, he got right where he wanted, Slytherin, on the other hand, he displayed every sign of being disappointed, with the way he created the impression of a kicked puppy as the Sorting Hat bellowed 'GRYFFINDOR' when it touched Lily's head._

 _Nonetheless, my years at Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft were greater than I expected. Lily and mine's friendship only increased as the time passed and so did mine with the Marauders – something Lily never understood why -, surprisingly. I discovered many things in common between us, such as our midnight snacks – main reason that we've started accepting each other -, and I found myself sharing my time between them. Oddly, Severus and I became friends after sorting out our differences and we found that we could actually have a good time together. That is, until our fifth year, when he, at the spur of the moment, called Lily a Mudblood, and like that, I saw their relationship go down the drain. And so did ours._

 _James, Sirius, Remus, Lily and I continued to act like family, even with all that has happened to break us apart. We cried, fought and fell in love together. Hopefully, we'll stay united to the very end._

oOo

 _"What about you, Lils... Do you have any name in mind?" Belle asked._

 _"Harold James" she told her friend with a smile "You can tell who's chosen the main name. James said amazing things should be passed onto the next generation… by amazing, I think he meant himself."_

 _Both Lily and Isabelle laughed at that._

 _"Wouldn't be great if you were carrying a girl, Belle?"_

 _"Why not a boy like you?"_

 _"Because our babies would grow up together and then fall in love, get married…" she daydreamed._

 _Belle regarded the silly expression on the green-eyed beauty, suddenly breaking into a fit of giggles at the image, despite thinking the idea was absolutely adorable, her own self wondering if that would ever happen to their kids._

 _During their musing, a crack echoed just outside the house and three men passed through the now opened wooden door._

 _"…like you could ever beat me, Padfoot."_

 _"He's done it once-"_

 _"Shut up, Moony…"_

 _"See, Prongs. Even Moony knows I can defeat you with my hands tied back" Padfoot let out a bark like laugh, looking at Prongs playfully._

 _"That only happened because I was distracted" Prongs retorted._

 _"Well, it was your own fault for staring at Lily, when you should be focused on your duel…"_

 _"Whose side are you on, Moony?"_

 _"You two still bickering like a pair of old ladies, I see."_

 _Another voice, full of delight, cut in._

 _The young women, now very aware of the friendly banter, made their way to the men, the brunette bringing her husband to a lovely embrace, whereas the redhead had an arm drop around her shoulders._

 _"Cannot help it, love. Sometimes Prongs' ego needs to be knocked out a couple notches" The handsome man nuzzled her ear affectionately._

 _She grinned._

 _"You're not one to judge James' ego, Sirius."_

 _"Ouch, darling. That hurt right here" he said good-humoredly._

 _"That would be far more convincing if you had the right place…" Belle replied moving his hand to the left side of his chest._

 _Every single day they spent together was like that, filled with laugher. The five of them knew dark times were coming. Living in the middle of a war, with Voldemort and his Death-Eaters taking over everywhere there was always the risk that one of them would end up dead, especially now that a prophecy was mentioned about James and Lily's son and they had to go into hiding at Dumbledore's request._

 _Still, they tried to make the best of the situation. Isabelle was due to any moment and Lily had a few months to go before their child was born. The guys' friendship was as strong and weird as ever – Peter being the only one straying far, constantly leaving to Merlin knows where -, and the Order of the Phoenix was finally receiving some leads about some members' absence. It wasn't much, but it was already something to look up to._

 _And so they spent their day chatting and eating by the fireplace. Lily, James and Remus on the couch and Sirius and Isabelle were left cuddling in the loveseat._

 _"I'll go get us more tea" Belle stood up, disentangling herself from her husband, going to the kitchen._

 _"Let me help you"_

 _Lily followed her friend, leaving the trio alone in the room._

 _"So Moony…"_

 _"No… Here we go…" Remus said, rubbing his temple tiredly._

 _"You are the only one of us who's not tied down… I mean, certainly there is someone you like, right? Anyone?" Sirius questioned, almost pleadingly._

 _Remus sighed._

 _"There isn't, Padfoot, and you know why."_

 _"If this is about your furry problem, I'll have you know this is completely bulls—"_

 _James was interrupted when a high pitched scream came from the next room, right where the girls were._

 _All of them stood straight in a jump, fearing what might have happened, and they all but ran to the kitchen. Remus, even if glad for the interruption, could feel his heart beating wildly in anxiety and fear of what they would find._

 _The first sight they had was Lily, worry fetched on her features, talking hastily to a sweating Isabelle that was bracing herself against the counter, a mixture of surprise and pain in her face._

 _"I think my water just broke."_

 _That's all it took to hell break loose._

 _Sirius breathing became almost non-existent, actually, It didn't seem he was breathing at all. Panic made its presence and he just stopped there, no knowing what to do._

 _That is, until a Miss Potter started to scream like a crazy banshee._

 _"What is your matter, you idiots? She needs to go to the hospital. NOW!"_

 _And like that, the men finally moved, Sirius taking his panting wife in his arms, then apparating to the hospital, being followed not even seconds after by the others._

oOo

 _They waited patiently – except Sirius, who was pacing fretfully – for six hours, and yet, no news._

 _"Sit down, Sirius"_

 _"I can't Lily, not 'til I see her…"_

 _She exhaled but didn't say anything._

 _In that instant, a loud cry was heard and a nurse came in their direction not long after._

 _The mid-age woman looked worn off but the sincere smile on her face reassured them everything was okay._

 _"She is asking for you, Mr. Black." The nurse beckoned him to trail behind her._

 _James, Remus and Lily, doubtful if they should go or not, stayed in the waiting room, but the woman signaled for their presence too, and so they went, walking slowly as to let the future daddy enter first._

 _Belle was laying in the hospital bed, her face red and sweat covering the sheets, then she peeped up when he made his way in, extending her arm as if telling him to come closer. When he did, Isabelle took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers as he caressed her palm with his thumb._

 _"I love you, Sirius…" she said weakly._

 _His eyes told her everything she needed to know. He would never leave her. No if he had a say in it._

 _"… I love you too, my Belle."_

 _After lots of pushing, screaming and swearing – from Isabelle's pushing or Sirius' breaking hand, not sure – a baby cry filled the room, and after hours of pain, the new mommy fell down to the bed in exhaustion and relief._

 _"Congratulations, Ms. and Mr. Black. You have a beautiful baby girl."_

 _The many times they thought they had been happy, nothing could be compared to that moment. The feeling when you hold your child for the first time was indescribable._

 _When the nurse gave her the infant, Sirius circled her shoulders with his arm, and together, they soaked in the girl's beauty._

 _The little girl was an almost perfect copy of her dad, except for her tiny nose and heart-shaped head. A tuff of chocolate brown hair sprouting from her head was a picture-perfect mixture of her parents. Her skin was pale, but her cheeks had a natural blush and huffed softly through her pink lips with each breath she took._

 _That instant, the glass door opened and their three friends came into the room, Molly and Arthur Weasley behind them, two-year-old boys, twins, in their arms._

 _"We came as soon as we could" Arthur said standing in the back._

 _"Do you need anything, dear? Is everything alright?" Molly. Always the sweetest._

 _Both Sirius and Belle beamed at them, but otherwise, refused._

 _"We're okay, but thanks" he said._

 _"Come see her"_

 _At that Lily squealed in joy._

 _"A girl! I told you, Belle. Our kids will look great together…" and then, the dreamy look returned._

 _The others almost sweat-dropped, but neither James or Sirius dared say nothing to disagree with the hot-tempered redhead._

 _"So… Sirius and I were talking and we decided," Belle paused, then stared at Remus and Lily "Would you like to be the godparents?"_

 _"Of course I would, Belle. Thank you, thank you" Lily smiled animatedly._

 _However, Remus didn't look fond of the idea._

 _"You know my condition… I would be a no good for godparent… I don't think I am cut out for this…" he mumbled nervously._

 _The new parents already knew the drew by heart. Remus was too conscious, but also a good-hearted man. Only he could not see it. Always thinking himself unworthy of love._

 _"Nonsense, Moony." Sirius said with finality "We already decided. There is no one better than you"_

 _"He is right, Moony" James added._

 _"Remus…" Isabelle pleaded._

 _The man sighed, knowing he lost. Nonetheless, he felt very glad his friends choose him with such important part in their daughter's life. He always thought James would be the godfather._

 _"Alright."_

 _The others beamed, and Remus, for once, didn't felt all alone._

 _"Mommy, mommy…"_

 _"What is it, sweetheart?"_ _a seven-month pregnant_ _Molly questioned the boy in her arms._

 _Little Fred, or George, pointed to the baby who now was in her godfather's arms. Her eyes opened and all in the room could testify bright honey-grey eyes taking the first look at the world._

 _"Have you decided a name, yet?" Arthur asked gently. The ginger was glad to make part of such beautiful moment._

 _Sirius turned to his wife, a curious feeling in his eyes for he hadn't thought about it, being so caught up seeing his daughter being goggled at by his best friends._

 _Belle took a glance at her little girl and determinately said._

 _"Charlotte Grace Black."_

oOo


	2. Promises

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 2 - Promises**

.

 _London, 30 October 1981_

 _The night was surprisingly peaceful at Godric's Hollow, considering Halloween would be on the very next day, people would expect to see children running on the sidewalks screaming about their new costumes to friends, helping their parents with decorating the house with the whole 'wicked' feature the day requested, or doing whatever they did for the past years._

 _It seemed like even in the muggle world, things were starting to look gloom, and not all that cheerful as it used to._

 _With the exception of one household in the very same street._

 _Of course their lives weren't perfect, being stuck in the same place for months, for a man so twisted and evil decided to take over the world, riding it from those who dared to oppose him._

 _Lord Voldemort._

 _The Wizarding World learned to fear his name, as if the mere sound of it, would make the own Lord appear in front of their eyes and lead them right to the dead._

 _As for the muggles, most continued living without knowing, oblivious to the existence of such creatures. Werewolves, ghosts, vampires and wizards. None is real. Only a figment of imagination, they always said. Living without knowing is better than accepting something we cannot understand. Something abnormal. And so they lived, unaware of the danger around them._

 _Others, unfortunately or not, discovered some mysteries about that world. A world where everything could happen. Even magic. And opposite to those who choose to be uncaring, these starting living in fear. Bad things were constantly occurring and they didn't know why or how. People missing, deaths, violence. They dreaded being the next one to fall._

 _But as the most of them, they just ignored and moved on._

 _The Potters and Blacks hoped it would be that easy. To just lay down and forget about everything, however they couldn't, because if they didn't fight, who would?_

 _Therefore, they did as usual. Accepted and tried to enjoy life as much as they could, and now that wasn't so hard with two little lights shining brightly against their dark sky._

oOo

 _"Aren't they adorable?"_

 _Belle rolled her eyes mockingly but nodded, wordlessly agreeing, at the silly woman beside her, who was currently making baby-faces, while holding a camera in her hand._

 _Apparently, after being deprived of sunlight or anything freedom related, people tend to create pastimes to keep themselves occupied._

 _Lily was no exception._

 _While in school, Lily Potter née Evans completely hated photos. Not photos in general, just of herself – something no one understood, her being so gorgeous -, but after her child was born, the hot-tempered woman discovered the many wonders of picture taking._

 _And making her son – and goddaughter – stop at inconvenient times to photograph or record them, only because they made a funny sound or cute face, was one of them._

 _No even her own husband could escape it. James swore his precious Lily-Flower was going insanely mad, although, one could see he had amusement written all over his face, and never once had he dared to stop her. Seeing the smile on her face made the torture worth it._

 _So that's why Belle was standing there in boredom for half an hour, watching Lily trying – in vain, may I add – to catch the attention of the two infants playing together, hoping to get one of them to look at the camera._

 _"Look at mommy, Harry, come on…" she pleaded._

 _Regrettably for her, her son only turned his back on her and kept playing._

 _A muffled laugh was heard._

 _"Oh, shut it, Belle…"_

 _"S-sorry, Lils…" the other said between sniggers "…but your kind of look ridiculous doing that…"_

 _Lily only glared at her then huffed in frustration._

 _"I swear everything is against me,"_

 _"Don't be dramatic"_

 _"It's true," the redhead countered "Not even sweet Charlotte spared me a glance"_

 _In that moment, said girl stood from the rug she was sitting, whirling to her godmother's direction, building a spark of hope in the last, only to fade away when Charlie went to the couch, retrieving a cat-toy she'd left there before, walked back to the rug, sat down and returned playing with Harry._

 _And laughter began once more._

oOo

 _For hours the two friends waited for their lovers to come back home. They left early in the morning, calling hurried goodbyes saying it was an emergency at the Order._

 _James and Sirius took a portkey - being too risky to apparate for fear of giving away their location after all the trouble the Fidelius Charm caused -, agreeing to meet Remus, Peter and the others there. Both of the girls thought it was unfair, to be stuck inside the house while the guys were doing Merlin knows what, but they could see where it came from._

 _They had to be extra cautious for both Harry and Charlotte, who too were in great danger, and the boys were needed at the Order. Dumbledore was counting on them, and if there's one thing those two didn't want, was to disappoint their friend Albus Dumbledore._

 _Speaking of the children, they now laid on the big bed in the guest room. Their breaths were the only thing that could be heard in the room as they slept._

 _Their legs tucked into their chest in a fetal position. Harry snored softly, rubbing his eye with his small hand, then falling silent again. Small Charlotte had one of her hands under her head and the other was on the bed, developing into a loose fist._

 _Sometime into the night their tiny fingers interlocked, and like that they stayed, enjoying the comfort each other's presence brought._

 _That was how their parents found them. It was way past midnight when Sirius and James returned, their wives greeting them in welcome. Isabelle climbed up the stairs, Sirius and the others trailed behind her._

 _The plan was to get Charlie and go home, but the sight almost made her feel sinful for even thinking about breaking such moment._

 _Disappointingly, they had to do it._

 _Separating those two was not an easy task. It seemed every time Charlotte went a foot of distance from him, Harry would start to get uneasy. Fascinating, really._

 _When they finally succeeded, they wished the Potters a goodnight and departed._

oOo

 _Halloween came soon after, and with it, the damped mood was lifted up a bit. The streets of Godric's Hollow were decorated accordingly with a few carved pumpkins, fake skeletons and kids of various ages knocking to people's doors screaming 'Trick-or-treat' out loud._

 _The Halloween's day in that place, compared to other places, was kind of sluggish and not all that celebrated by the neighborhood, though there were people who still made the effort of trying to make it worth to remember._

 _It's a pity not everyone could enjoy freely._

 _The Blacks were going home after a visit to Dumbledore. Apparently, there was a spy in the Order. No matter what they done to avoid the situation at hand, it always looked like Voldermort and his cronies were a step ahead, and that started to create trouble._

 _According to Albus, someone had been conveying the Potter's whereabouts to the enemy, something that would lead them to their demise._

 _Astounding as it sounds, Sirius suspected Remus. Dear sweet Remus. The same man that would do anything for those he loved._

 _Belle loved Sirius to death, but never could she believe that nonsense. Sirius thought otherwise._

 _After that, Sirius and Remus' friendship became strained._

 _James, didn't know who to believe._

 _Sirius had been his best friend for years. He would never lie to him._

 _On the other hand, James didn't think Remus was capable of such._

 _And just like that, their bond cracked._

oOo

 _"He would never… Sirius, this is madness" Belle whisper-yelled._

 _The couple were arguing in their bedroom; their daughter was watching cartoon at the television next door and they did not want to disturb her._

 _He groaned angrily._

 _"That's what I thought," Sirius ran his hand through his dark locks "maybe that was his plan… make us trust him… befriend him…just to betray us in the end…"_

 _The brunette got off the bed then walked slowly in his direction, as if a wrong move would scare him away._

 _"You say that," she paused "but do you believe it?"_

 _He had a pondering look on his eyes, lips turning down into a frown._

 _"I don't know…"_

 _She laced her arms around his neck, bringing him to a hug. Isabelle could tell he need it._

 _Sirius always had trust issues. When at Hogwarts, he was deemed as a heartless bastard, constantly playing with the girls' hearts and never giving a damn about their feelings._

 _However, she knew the truth._

 _His pursuit for attention was caused by his past. His family, abusive parents who would tell him he was a worthless son, the years suffering in silence. All of it._

 _If he could not be loved by his family, then he would take any love as it came._

 _She felt grateful for changing that._

 _She felt happy he accepted._

 _Her musing and the sweet moment was disturbed when a loud sob echoed through the house._

 _The two of them, fearful, didn't wasted a second to run to their daughter's location._

 _Charlotte was sitting down on farthest corner of the room, the television now forgotten, as she wept loudly, hugging her knees to her chest. Neither Sirius or Isabelle saw what had cause it, but as they came closer to the little girl on the floor, they could hear her mumbling something, over and over again._

 _"…arr…arri"_

 _The parents turned to each other not catching the meaning of it, when Charlotte mumbled again, only this time they could clearly comprehend what she was saying._

 _"arri-i…H-harr…Harry…"_

 _They didn't know how, but in that moment they knew something bad had happened._

 _It was as if a wave of panic came over them, taking over their bodies. In a second it was gone. Sirius, feeling adrenaline pumping in his system, was already making his way to the door, the feeling of dread almost keeping him from breathing._

 _"I'll go check up on them"_

 _Isabelle looked up from her place on the floor, where she was rocking her daughter gently, whispering sweet words to her, hoping to calm her daughter, but doing little to calm her own racing heart._

 _Wanting to stop him, she opened her mouth to retort, but she knew he would go no matter what she said._

 _"Be careful."_

 _That was the only word that escaped her lips._

 _Then, he was gone._

oOo

 _Isabelle's POV_

 _I remembered a time when I used to be happy._

 _When all I needed to worry was about passing my N.E.W.T.s._

 _A time when me and my friends would go out. Laughing. Smiling._

 _Together._

 _Now that was just a far-away dream._

 _Because they were dead._

 _James, Lily and Peter._

 _All of them, just gone._

 _That night changed everything._

 _The night when I lost my best friends. My sister. My love._

 _I never saw him again since that night. A few months had passed._

 _Sirius told me he would check up on James and Lily, but he never came back._

 _Aurors, Kingsley Shackebolt and Alastor Moody among them, came in his place that same night, instead. Even Dumbledore appeared. They told me Voldermort killed them, the dark mark hovering above the Potter's household. Little Harry was the only one who survived the killing curse._

 _The-boy-who-lived, they called him._

 _The secret-keeper betrayed them and that was the reason they were dead, and Harry was now an orphan._

 _Sirius._

 _He gained a lifetime sentence to Azkaban. No trial._

 _Convicted for blowing up a street and murdering thirteen muggles and his own old friend, Peter Pettigrew._

 _Convicted for betraying James and Lily to Voldemort._

 _I didn't believe them._

 _They didn't know him like I did._

 _He would rather die than betray James, who was like his own brother._

 _It had been months already, and I still didn't believe them. And never would._

 _I tried to take Harry with me, but Dumbledore refused. Said he was safer with the Dursleys. I tried, again and again, to no avail, so eventually, I gave up._

 _Remus vanished. For guilt or sorrow, I didn't know. But they all have left me, and I was all alone._

 _Every day I would stare out the window, hoping to see the smile that made my heart beat faster. He would enter and take me in his strong arms and I would finally convince myself, all of that was just a nightmare._

 _It never happened._

 _I missed him, but I had to move on._

 _If not me or for Sirius, for our sweet Charlotte._

 _She needed me, and I was going to protect her with my life, and maybe one day, we would be reunited once more._

 _'I promise you, my love'_

oOo

 _London, 12 May 1984_

 _"Moony, moony! Look what I did!"_

 _A four-year old girl came running down the stairs just as a shabby looking man crossed the door adorning a worn-out appearance, but a genuine smile made its way to his face, making him look younger._

 _The pretty girl skipped happily to her godfather, her dark brown hair rolling in waves behind her as she did and her eyes glowed at the person._

 _"I have something for you, Moony"_

 _"She's been driving me all over the walls waiting for you. It was moony this, moony that…" The mother said, getting out of the kitchen and into the room, an apron tied around her waist._

 _Belle hadn't really changed that much in that three years, surprisingly. She still had the same old beauty she possessed, now a mature look in her features, her hair was the same chestnut color, only the locks barely touched her shoulders nowadays. The major change was in her eyes. Most of the time they were lifeless._

 _Not to say she wasn't happy. She was, but not as she used to._

 _Sometimes she would stop and stare with a far-away expression. Just recording. Her lips would form a bitter smile and a lone tear would slide down her face, and in just a second, she would cover up and fake a smile to those around her._

 _It wasn't healthy, but then again, it was the way she found to keep going._

 _At least for her, Remus came back a few months after that fateful day, so much sorrow in his eyes, begging for forgiveness for not being there for both her and Charlotte when they needed. Of course, she forgave him. She knew he didn't do it on purpose. He too was hurting for losing all his best friends at once. Remus hadn't a single bad bone in his body._

 _Since then, Remus constantly came to Belle's house whenever he wasn't looking for a job – the Order of the Phoenix was disbanded after Voldemort's defeat -, and stayed with Charlie._

 _Not for a moment he regretted this decision. He loved the little girl to death. She looked so much with Sirius it was scary. She even had the same glint of mischief in her eyes like he had. It recalled him of the good old times with the Marauders._

 _Every time she beamed his way, as if really happy of his company, filled his chest with a warm felling. To some little pure creature gaze at him in such caring way, made him think himself not a monster, even if for a second. She gave him hope._

 _That was the reason he promised himself, the same night he came back, that he would take care of her, now that Sirius couldn't._

 _"Really?" he smiled amusedly._

 _The child hummed in agreement, shaking her head up and down enthusiastically._

 _Both Belle and Remus chuckled._

 _"Why don't you two go ahead and I'll go once I've finished lunch?" The woman smarted her apron, already turning to the kitchen, but stopped midway to whirl around with a mocking grin "Spicy food, Remy?"_

 _"Very funny…" he replied with a playful tone "Please."_

 _She only laughed at her dumb friend, the only one who could make her smile – not including her dear Charlotte, of course._

 _Speaking of, the girl had no idea what they were talking about, but ignored and all but jumped onto Remus who caught her just in time._

 _"Let's be off then."_

 _He took Charlotte under her arms, spinning her around all the way, watching her giggling in delight._

 _They got to her room, toys and stuff neatly kept away – Belle, no doubt -, only papers laying on the floor by the bed, ones' brand new and the others had some drawings he recognized as being an owl, a dog and a sort of flower._

 _For a four-year-old she certainly had a talent for drawing, something he was sure she didn't get from neither of her parents, for they couldn't even draw a single straight line. Her sketches, despite not being perfect, had soft strokes, like she knew exactly what she was doing. It was impressive for her age._

 _Remus put her down, sitting beside her, back against the side of the bed._

 _"Found it!" Charlotte said "Here"_

 _Taking the drawing from her extending hands, he stared at it only to open his eyes in surprise._

 _There was seven people in it. Five adults and only two kids._

 _One of them, he knew, was her. A man and woman on each side of her._

 _The other he didn't recognize but after noticing the draw people behind him, Remus could imagine that was little Harry._

 _Right at the middle, he stared in surprised, was himself._

 _All of them were there – well, with the absence of Peter._

 _James, Lily and Harry. Sirius, Belle and Charlotte. Remus._

 _A thought occurred to him._

 _Charlie never saw Harry – or James and Lily, to think of – since more or less three years ago, only saw photos of them. And even that happened once, more than two years ago. How could she capture from the Potter's males' messy hair to the green of Lily's eyes?_

 _"…Charlotte, darling. Where did you saw them?" he asked her, pointing to the three Potters. "Did your mom ever gave you some pictures of them?"_

 _She looked at him confused, not expecting that reaction at all._

 _"No," she answered "I dreamed of them a few nights ago. It was so odd, Moony…It didn't seem like a dream…"_

 _A memory._

 _Remus felt relieved. He forgot she had almost two when they're still alive. It was uncommon for a child her age to remember, but not unheard of._

 _"Don't dwell on it, darling" he took her closer in a fatherly affection. "No matter what, you can always count on me."_

 _"Alright, Moony."_

oOo

 _"The food was great as usual, Belle. Thank you."_

 _"Are you sure you don't want to stay tonight?" the brunette questioned "It's raining pretty bad outside and your home it's too far to apparate to. Don't want you catching a cold"_

 _She was right. Coincidently, a lightning crossed across the dark grey sky and thunder sounded outside._

 _"I don't think it would be appropriate-"_

 _"Oh, nonsense. Besides, I would feel guilty if you fall sick." Belle cut him off. "I'm ready to beg, please…"_

 _He sighed._

 _"Fine, but I'll have to go get my potion at Dominic's place. Is just down the block."_

 _"I can't believe I forgot… full moon in a few days, right?"_

 _Regrettably, yes, he wanted to say._

 _"Yeah, well… won't be too long." With a crack he disapparated._

 _Alone in the room, Isabelle decided to keep herself occupied while waiting for Remus' return, therefore she began washing dishes and cleaning the table until everything was in order._

 _Almost twenty minutes and he still wasn't back._

 _She went upstairs, the rain falling harder than before, droplets hitting the windowpane unceasingly. Making her way to her bedroom, she opened the door, leaving it open wide, grabbed a book that was on top of the bedside table, before sitting at the bay window, sometimes immersing herself in the book or staring at the weather._

 _Some time in her reading, Belle must had fall asleep, because when she let herself open her eyes she was leaning her head against the window and her clock implied nearly an hour had passed._

 _And Remus didn't seem to be home, yet._

 _"Mommy?"_

 _She spun around to the door, where Charlotte was now looking at her, a mixture of fear an apprehension in her face._

 _"What is it, sweetheart. Bad dream?" She inquired._

 _The child only shook her head, the ends of her hair smacking her cheeks._

 _"I'm scared…"_

 _The mother beckoned her forward, wordlessly walking to the bed then wrapping her arms around the frightened girl. Another loud thunder echoed and Charlotte shrieked in her mother's chest, making the other caress her lock in a comforting manner._

 _"Mom's here, don't worry"_

 _It took a few minutes, but Charlotte finally fell asleep in her mother's arms and still, no Remus._

 _It seemed like an eternity, however, when she decided enough was enough – thinking her friend had gone straight home without letting her know -, all the lights went off, leaving the house in completely darkness._

 _She grabbed her wand, tucked into her coat's pocket, and casted a spell._

 _"Lumos Maxima."_

 _The end of her rosewood wand glowed brightly, offering some vision back to her senses._

 _Isabelle was about to put it away, when a really loud sound of glass smashing downstairs caught her attention and Charlie's, whom was waked up and jumped in surprise._

 _"Mommy, what was t—"_

 _Her mother shushed her, pointing her finger to her lips, and the girl nodded one to say she understood._

 _Wand in hand, she stood up from the bed, her free hand lacing through her daughter's, she made for the door with a racing heart, hoping desperately that Remus was the one down there, and if not, that he would arrive as fast as he could._

 _They passed the hallway, going to the stairs, Belle in front of Charlotte, a protective instance from whatever danger they were to find. The noises stopped as soon as their feet touched the carpet-covered stairs, and that only served to leave, both of them, in anxiety._

 _As they got to the room, nothing seemed out of order. Not even a sherd of broken glass on the ground._

 _The tangled hands tightened in each other's, panic building up. Isabelle pointed her wand every direction, not knowing where the person – if there was only one – was._

 _She circled the room, over and over again, till she finally saw something she missed the first time._

 _A slight opened window._

 _Someone was there, she knew. All windows were closed as soon as it started raining._

 _"Well, well, well…"_

 _She rotated briskly at the voice._

 _The darkness did nothing to cover the woman's features._

 _Charcoal curly hair. Grey eyes. Wicked smile._

 _"Bellatrix Lestrange"_

 _The woman who always took fun making Sirius' life a living hell._

 _The same woman whom was being chased by the Aurors for torturing Alice and Frank Longbottom to insanity._

 _Belle knew why she was there. She also knew that she probably wasn't alone, for she felt other two males' presence in the same room, and she had an idea as to whom it belonged to._

 _Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Her husband and brother-in-law._

 _"She remember me," Bellatrix singed in a baby voice "It seems introductions are hardly necessary now…"_

 _She trailed off and Isabelle realized Bellatrix just noticed her daughter at her mother side. Her sneer transforming from mocking, to a malicious one._

 _"…and who that may be-"_

 _Rage made its way to her system as she tried to cover Charlotte with her own body._

 _"Do not even dare to so much as look her way, you bitch!"_

 _The death-eater cackled madly._

 _"That must be Charlotte…the blood-traitor's daughter, isn't she?" she asked_

 _"Leave us alone"_

 _A voice no one expected was heard. Charlotte held her head down glaring fiercely into Bellatrix's eyes, through her bangs. She was scared, she admitted, but she didn't want anyone badmouthing her father._

 _Shame, Bellatrix didn't appear a little bit scared of a child. If anything, she was having fun with the situation at hand._

 _"Itsy Bitsy Baby Charlotte" she laughed "Cute words for someone who won't live to see another day… you and your dear blood-traitor mommy."_

 _Lestrange seemed to get distracted. She started listening all the reasons as to why blood-traitors and mudbloods should be extinguished. She turned her back on them, skipping her hands across the furniture's surface, sometimes picking up a picture, only to frown in disgust and put it back down. She wasn't paying them any attention, but Belle could not attack her because of the other two. Bellatrix knew that too, so she continued, uncaring._

 _"… a pureblood generation, without those filth freaks tainting our blood. You had your chance, coming from a pureblood family and also marrying my cousin, if only you hadn't tarnished yourselves fooling around with that mudbloods…"_

 _Isabelle blocked her out. She had to get her daughter out of there that instant._

 _"Sweetheart, I need you to do something for me okay?" She whispered in her child's ear, taking advantage of their closeness so no one else in the room could listen._

 _"Anything"_

 _Even though they were a second away from being murdered, Belle could not help but smile at her._

 _"I'll create a distraction. When I give you the sign, I want you to run as far and fast as you can, alright?"_

 _At that Charlotte stared at her mom in shock. She might still be a child and naïve, but not stupid. She knew what that meant._

 _"No! I won't leave you, mommy. Never…" she panicked_

 _"Listen to me, Charlie. I would never, ever, forgive myself if something happened to you. I love you. Do this for me, darling. Please."_

 _The decision was made, and the tears came._

 _Without hesitating, Isabelle pointed her wand ahead of her and muttering a spell, making half of the furniture close to her explode, surprising the death-eaters, giving a chance for her to push her daughter to the opposite path._

 _"GO!"_

 _Charlie didn't need to be told twice. She ran away, occasionally looking behind her shoulder in regret for leaving her mother on her own._

 _She crossed the hallway like in a marathon. The plan was to get out of the house and find help, preferably Remus, then come back home to help her mom. That would have worked had not a hand closed around her ankle just as she tried to jump out a window._

 _"Where're you going, little girl" The man pulled her inside. All the way she screamed, kicked and scratched, hoping to get free._

 _Rodolphus, a crazy-looking man – though not as much as his wife – held her by the scalp, eliciting a shriek of pain from her, and brought her all the way back to where the others' were._

 _"Found her"_

 _Charlotte almost broke into sobs with the sight of her mother laying on the ground, Bellatrix hovering above her with a wand in a hand, and a knife in the other. There was a cut on her mother's cheek and a thread of blood trickled down from it._

 _On the other side, Belle was in horror._

 _There was a part inside of her saying that Charlotte wouldn't make it, but the hope won._

 _And now…_

 _She was dreading what they were going to do with her little girl._

 _Torture her? Kill her?_

 _The worst part was that she couldn't do anything to prevent it. She was paralyzed. Too weak to move._

 _Suddenly, a tiny spark grew inside of her. Telling somebody would come in time. They would not let her die. She could feel it._

 _"There you are, little Char. Come say goodbye to mommy. Don't worry… you'll be the next." Bellatrix leered at her "Say something to your blood-traitor daughter, Bell"_

 _But she didn't._

 _"No?"_

 _Still, belle said nothing, only glared at the mad woman._

 _"Fine"_

 _The former Black raised her wand, and when she thought that would be her last breath, Bellatrix spoke._

 _"That should get you talking. Crucio!"_

 _Only the pain didn't come, and it took seconds for her mind too work, and screams reached her ears._

 _Charlotte feel down on her knees and started twitching, tears streaming down her cheeks while sobs broke out of her throat. The pain was so intense that Charlie felt like there was hundreds of hot needles piercing her whole body, her palms formed a fist, nails digging her skin, drawing blood._

 _"Stop… Please. She's just a child" Belle cried, suffering for her daughter's pain. "STOP!"_

 _The curse stopped at once and the girl dropped down, breathing heavily._

 _"No matter, I got what I wanted" Bellatrix drawled amused. "Any last words?"_

 _Isabelle almost had the impulse to stay in silence again, but seeing the curved eyebrow in Bellatrix's face, she gave up. Looking at her child, she knew it would be the last time._

 _Bellatrix appeared to read her thoughts and made a signal to her husband. The man grabbed the girl's arm and threw beside her mother._

 _"Sweetheart, look at me…" taking the youngest face in her hands, she brought her closer. The other looked up tear threatening to fall again. "I'm sorry for not protecting you. I should have tried harder…"_

 _She started coughing._

 _"Charlotte, promise me something…" said girl barely nodded in response. "Never let anyone change who you are. Be yourself, no matter what the others think. Stand up for everything you believe in, and if someone knock you down, get up again and fight harder." She paused. "And don't ever forget, that as long as universe exists, I'll love you. Wherever I am. I'm so proud of you, honey… tell your father that I'm sorry we won't see each other again… I love you, Charlotte."_

 _"I love you too, mommy…" The girl hugged her mother for what it seemed the last time._

 _A fake retching sound cut them._

 _"I may vomit" Bellatrix stated. "But now… what I'd been waiting for."_

 _The four-year-old girl was pushed away, Bellatrix once more hovering above the dying woman. She raised her wand again, only this time the outcome out be different, and much more unpleasant._

 _"Goodbye, my baby…"_

 _"MOMMY, NO!"_

 _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

 _The girl's pleading cries fell to deaf ears. Her mother was now laying there motionless. Her eyes were staring blankly at a spot ahead of her. She was dead, and no matter how much she begged, her mother would never return._

 _"Don't cry, little baby" Bellatrix mocked her "you'll be joining her soon…"_

 _However, before she could even raise her wand, a muffled voice came from the outside, the door blowing off the hinges not long after._

 _Giving no time for response, a flock of Aurors barged in, shooting spells left and right, Alastor Moody leading them. The death-eaters tried to escape – Bellatrix shot a Flagellus Curse at Moody, but he easily deflected -, but were outnumbered and defeated._

 _In the midst of the fight, Remus shoved past everyone, trying to get to Charlotte._

 _"Charlotte, thanks Merlin. Where is your mother? What hap—"_

 _He took in her red teared face at the mere mention of Belle and finally looked, a few foots away from her, at her dead mother. He paled instantly, pain visibly in his face and his shoulders dropped._

 _That was the last thing he expected to see. Wanted to see._

 _The only friend he had was gone. Just like the others._

 _His legs could not support him, and he fell down besides Charlotte, before embracing her tightly. Both of them weeping for the loss of the last piece of their family._

 _'I will take care of her, Belle. I promise. Rest in peace, my friend.'_

 _'I'll make you proud, mom… That's a promise.'_

oOo


	3. Fears & Acceptance

**Hope you all had a Great New Year! Enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 3 - Fears & Acceptance**

.

London, 23 November 1988

Those past years were the hardest she ever had. Charlotte didn't hurt as much when her father was taken, after all she was just two at the time and barely remembered him. Thought her mother was a different story.

How was she supposed to forget the woman that took care of her, that coddled her and kissed her every wound, that gave her own life to save hers?

Charlie was brought to St. Mungus after the Aurors leaded Bellatrix and the others to the Ministry of Magic for a trial to Azkaban. She spent almost two weeks in observation, thought she didn't know why. She was alive and breathing, whereas her mother wasn't. However, Remus thought necessary when he discovered that she was a victim to the Cruciatus Curse, after freaking out at the notion of his little girl being tortured.

Mad-eye Moody came a few days later, wanting to talk to her and take her as a witness against the Death-eaters, but Remus refused right away, saying it was hard enough on her without having to remember Belle's death.

He was correct in his assumption. Charlotte fell into a deep depression, every night crying herself to sleep, desperately hoping that if she closed her eyes long enough, she would wake up to her mother's beautiful smile.

Her godfather always tried to make her feel better, even if he wasn't himself, and for that she was grateful. As she laid in the hospital's bed, Remus would read to her _Beauty and the Beast_ , a muggle book her mother used to read to her whenever she couldn't sleep. It was their favorite book, and for some reason, Isabelle constantly sniggered amusedly when in Remus' company, as she softly spoke the lines.

Now she was in her bedroom, four years later, laying on her stomach drawing the lake that had beside the house.

She moved in with Remus after he became officially her guardian. The wounds were too fresh and memories would definitely haunt her for life, fearing that if she was to come back, she would break down, so she agreed to move out of her old home.

Hill Cottage, number 8 was situated at a distant part from the town, situated between a huge forest and lake. The place was amazing. At night, the stars reflected against the water's surface and owls – non magical ones - hooted incessantly, and in the morning a flock of birds would rest on the maple tree' branches while the wind blew the leaves through the air.

Still, she always liked sunset best.

There was something about the colors, the mix up of yellow, pink and blue, that made her stop and take a seat on the grass, watching the display for hours, until Remus call her for dinner.

It helped with emptying her mind from her memories.

"Charlie?" A knock on the door stopped her sketching.

Remus appeared in the doorframe, looking sick and weary.

"What is it, Moony?" she questioned with a worried tone. "Are you alright?"

Somehow, she could sense he was nervous, Charlotte just didn't know why. He was fiddling with his hands, one strange habit of his when he was thinking of how to speak something without letting much on.

Not to say he was a liar or anything like that, but one thing the girl realized, with the years they lived together, was that Remus was a man of secrets. She never asked what, for fear of letting him uncomfortable, and not once she gave away her doubts, acting as if she knew nothing.

"Of course, dear. Maybe I caught some flu or something, no need to worry." He smiled sweetly at her "Well… something came up and I have to leave this afternoon. With luck, I'll be back tomorrow morning… So I want you to stay inside tonight, alright? No detours or midnight walks."

She just stared at him as if he just sprouted another head.

Not leaving the house the whole night and doing nothing? Where was the fun in that?

Even though she wanted to scream and call him mad, she knew that no matter what, a battle against Remus was a lost one. He had a way with words, using them in his favor, leaving the others speechless and trying to understand what happened.

"Okay, Moony…"

He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at her.

"It's just for a night, Charlie. You won't even notice."

Charlotte knew she had no right to be mad at him, because it wasn't his fault. The things he did were just to make sure she was safe, if anything, she should be thanking him for worrying. So the eight-year-old girl sighed in defeat, nodding her head.

oOo

Remus had been gone for more than an hour already. They had dinner way earlier than usual, for he didn't want to worry about leaving her with an empty stomach. Charlie was currently washing the dishes -she offered to do it herself when she noticed his hurry – and tucking the leftovers in the fridge. If she was to be stuck here for hours, might as well do something useful and clean the place up.

As a result, she spent the next two hours sweeping the wooden floor, cleaning the furniture, fixing their beds and putting things in their rightful place. When she finished, it was almost night time, dark grey clouds covering the sky and the weather turned bitter cold.

Charlotte dropped down on a fluffy chair in Remus' bedroom, panting and exhausted. She was glad it wasn't hot, or she would turn into a sweating mess. Waiting for her breath to calm down, she stood up and made her way to the bathroom, craving a nice bath before going to sleep, even though it barely was seven p.m.

As she went to the door, Charlie accidentally knocked a little hourglass ornament off Remus' desk, sending it rolling to the carpet. Luckily, it wasn't broken, she noted in relief as she inspected it, searching for any marks or cracks, then putting it back on.

She was almost turning back to leave the room, when a small flask caught her attention. Behind a dark blue lamp, a bottle that was hardly the size of her palm, half full with a blue-colored liquid that exuded a faint blue smoke as soon as she stoppered it. Its smell was horrible, recalling her of dirty old socks.

Charlotte searched for the label, hoping to learn what sort of potion was that. To her surprise, however, there wasn't one. Only the transparent glass of the container, but besides that, nothing. No tags, sticker or anything attached to it to help her.

She was nearly drinking it out of frustration, when a wail sounded from the outside, scaring her and making the bottle slip her fingers, her catching it just before it reached the ground. She pushed the bottle behind the lamp again, and all but sprinted downstairs.

As she finally made to the front door, Charlie contemplated whether she should stay inside or go and check the source of the noise. Like usual, curiosity won against uncertainty and she stepped out the door.

Charlotte's POV

Walking through the front lawn, I started looking around, but everything seemed normal. For an instant, I thought that maybe I needed to sleep badly, and imagined it all. That is, until I heard the same wail as before, only louder, coming from the forest. So like any other stupid person, with obviously a death wish, I went in to the forest direction, intended to find what was making the sound.

I could understand why Moony never let me get closer the place, thought. It was huge, dark and one easily could be lost in it. Twisted and sharp trees so tall that they seemed to touch the sky – then again, everything would seem big to an eight-year-old girl -, so no even the moonlight could provide me with some help. Its branches were dark, various dark green leaves sprouting from it, and apparently weighted tons, for some of them bended weirdly towards the ground, blocking the passage and scratching my bare arms and legs as I passed. The dirty ground underneath me scrunched when my boot-covered feet stepped on it, every so often, a twig would snap or I would accidentally kick a pebble.

A moaning sound caught my attention, making me stop in surprise and instantly run in its direction. Thankfully, the place I was running to seemed slightly brighter, a bit of moonlight seeping through the foliage. Dodging bushes full of thorns and swerving around an exceptionally large tree trunk, I took a few minutes to reach the right place, and when I did, the sight that greeted me, literally, knocked me out of breath.

A glimmer hit right where a man stood, back turned on me, frozen. He didn't notice me, I guessed. As his head turned up, his entire body started convulsing and he groaned in agony. I was just about to get out from my hiding spot and ask him if he wanted help, when his body began transforming.

The sound of clothes and skin being torn would be engraved in my mind for a long time. His backed arched outwards and I swore I saw his spine popping up from his skull. Skin was sucked back, creating the impression that he had no meat in his body, only bones showing, before dark caramel hair started sprouting, firstly, from his arms, legs then his back, his clothes discarded on the ground. Nails grew up into claws and his feet lengthened slowly. As his hair was too sucked into his skull, his senses seemed to alert him of something, making him whip around harshly and intent look where I was hiding, a face of shock and dread taking over his features, only adding to the pain that was there previously, before his face followed the rest, and transformed. The last human thing to go, I noticed, was a pair of familiar pale blue eyes.

My feet stuck to the ground, even if I ordered them to move, but it looked like my brain went into a full stop, and I could do nothing but stare unblinkingly at the werewolf in front of me.

That moment seemed to last forever. He was still looking at me and for a second I thought he was going to strike me, my mind screaming at me for not staying home like Moony said, but then a glimpse of recognition passed in his face and he turned around and ran away, leaving me to try and understand why he didn't attack me.

As I was attempting to find my way back, the answer hit me like a brick on the head, making me stop to the bitter truth I just found out. When I finally got the right path to the cottage, I fastened my steps. I got lucky once, that would hardly happen again.

Entering home, my mind was so numb that I went straight to bed, not bothering to take a bath anymore or even changing my dirty clothes, laid down and waited for sleep to take over, all the while, a single thought in my head.

Remus was a werewolf?

oOo

She woke up at four a.m. Bad dreams kept her from a good rest, making her jump awake every once in a while, scared and drenched in sweat. In them, she was not so fortunate to escape the beast's wrath. Every time she fell asleep, the dream ended differently, but all of them involved many ways to die at the hands – claws – of a werewolf. And none too pleasant.

Charlotte didn't even know why she was feeling like this. In an instant, she felt ashamed for even relating Remus to that creature. He was a good man, constantly putting everyone else's needs before his own, whereas the creature only acted on his instincts, destroying everything in its path, friend or foe.

To be honest, she thought she shouldn't be surprised, after all the clues she had over the years should've been a given. She recalled the times when he got sick for no reason, the jokes her mother did to Remus about the _Beauty and the Beast_ book, him leaving home every single full moon and most recently, the blue potion she found just yesterday, that now that she thought about it, she remembered it from a potion's book Remus lent her. Wolfsbane potion. Something werewolves like himself drank before every full moon, so they can keep their humanity, even after the transformation.

She felt disappointed with herself. Remus spent years, taking care of her, being careful enough to take his potion and go away a safe distance as not to endanger her. And the only thing he asked of her, she didn't do it. All he told her was to stay home, and she left. Charlotte felt like she betrayed him, and in a way, she did.

Hoping to apologize, she checked the outdoors by her bedroom's window, barely sighting a lone figure knocked out cold in the ground, clothes shredded, at the forest`s entrance.

The girl sighed and, grabbing a thick and warm sheet from her cabinet, walked outside. When she was close enough, Charlie noticed Remus shivering badly, the cold air hitting his unprotected skin, so she dropped the cover around him softly, not wanting to wake him up, and turned back inside.

She got into the kitchen, glad Remus taught her how to cook a year ago, and got to work.

Not quite an hour after, eggs and extra spicy bacon, toast and smashed potatoes with another plate of cinnamon waffles – he had a sweet tooth and love for cinnamon - were served and brought to the table, a steaming hot chocolate already on its way. His favorite food and drink, that I learned from watching him do it several times. The whole lot was entirely his, hers would be next on the list, because he always ate much, and once, Charlotte suspected he had two stomachs.

She was just finished fixing the table for breakfast, when she heard the front door opening and not even a few seconds after, Remus appeared at the kitchen's threshold, carrying a somber expression.

Her guardian looked worse than the night before, with dark bags under his eyes, slouched shoulders and various cuts in his arms, legs and even his face, some of them bleeding. That night really took a tool on him. He wrapped the warm sheet around him, taking a look at her then at the food, eyes starting to water with tears, and the girl merely stood there not knowing what to make of it.

"…Moony?" she tried in worry "Everything alright-"

Charlie was cut off when strong but gentle arms circled around her small figure, the man clinging tightly to her, nearly on brim of desperation. His cries were muffled in her hair, his cheeks laying on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry… I am so sorry, Charlie. I should had never let things get this far… putting you in danger like that…so irresponsible…all this time trying to convince myself that I could ignore my condition… be normal. Ha! Monsters have no chance of a normal life… I was so naïve to think otherwise, and now…look where it got me…" he spoke mostly to himself "I am sorry I failed you, my dear…"

She could only stay frozen, staring open-mouthed at him, but no words came out of it.

A monster? That was honestly what he viewed himself as?

Another pang of guilty struck her. After all, Remus was not the perfect, tough-minded guy she made him up to be. The mode how he spoke so lowly of himself, the fear and sorrow in his features, opened her eyes to the fact that, the man who was embracing her at the moment, was just that. A man. Someone with insecurities and flaws.

For an instant, she forgot she was the child and he, the adult. She just recalled the many occasions when her own self suffered from insecurities about her mother, or the kids at school who constantly called her freak – she never let it shown, but it did hurt -, and dear old Moony was the one who would cheer her up, in any possible way. Now, she thought, it was time to repay the favor and care for him, as he did to her.

"…Prongs. He should have been your godfather, not a god dammed werewolf…what was Sirius thinking…" he began caressing my head, speaking so low that I wouldn't have heard if I wasn't close to him "No matter, I'll floo Andromeda later… she would be more than happy to have you with h—"

"Shut it!"

She backed away from a surprised Remus.

"I don't know where you got this nonsense from, Mr. Lupin. Since I was a child, you did your best to provide me with everything I needed, and never, ever, hurt me in any way. There is no reason to apologize. I was the one who didn't obey you, so I should be the one apologizing. You may think you failed me or my mom, but you didn't. Remus, you-are-not-a-monster!" I drawled every word. "Although, I confess I was scared when I saw you out there, I am not anymore. I don't care that you are a werewolf. You'll always be Moony to me…"

Charlotte never spoke that much at once, but she made sure to pour her feelings out. There was no way she was leaving him alone, especially now that she knew how he felt. Besides, the girl was sure she would never be completely happy at Andromeda's. Not that there was anything wrong with her. She loved great-aunt Andy, the woman who ignored the Black's pureblood obsession and let go of her past to marry Ted Tonks, a muggleborn. She was disinherited for that, but never care much about it, for a few years later Nymphadora, her daughter – and Charlie's cousin -, was born.

The three of them always made her feel welcomed, like a part of their family and not only by blood. Nymphadora – she hated that name, so everyone started calling her Tonks, except Andy and Ted, who called her Dora – was thirteen years older than the little Black, and acted like her older sister most of the time, even if she behaved like a child sometimes.

Charlotte thought that even if they were amazing, and she would be happy with them, a part of her told her something would be amiss. Remus wouldn't be there, and living in a world without him was not something she wanted. He had been there since forever, she thought, and that was how it will continue, if she had a say in it.

"I don't want to go, please…" her eyes mirrored his, filling with tears. "I promise to obey you from now on, Moony. That was all my fault… sorry."

The man didn't move a muscle, he just stood there, eyes fixed on the smaller figure, before glancing at the floor.

"Do you know what people will say if they discover? Not only I will be punished, but so will you. Charlotte, you been through so much, already, I don't want to add even more. You deserve to have a second chance to be a child, dear. Being forced to grow up so fast… and with someone like me… well, let's just say for now that you won't have much of an ordinary life if you were to stay. But you deserve better-"

"And that's you! Don't you see, Moony. You already gave me a second chance. And, yes, there is things in my past that most kids my age wouldn't even imagine and I am not as naïve and stupid as the others make me out to be, that's why I know that if it wasn't for you, I would be dead by now." She paused, hands fidgeting nervously at the thought "And who cares what the others think? I don't know what will happen, but I'll be there for you when it happens."

It seemed to take a while, but his head turned up, a turmoil of feelings passing through his face as he took in all she said. Charlotte's face was full of determination, she wasn't giving up so easily this time, even if it took hours.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wait too long, for a smile broke out in Remus' mouth and a laugh teared from his throat.

"How is it that a tiny little eight-year girl can sound much mature than this old man?"

Both of them smiled, a giggle escaping her lips, before a full laugh took over, Remus following her not long after. He crossed the space between them and hugged her close to him again, their stomachs hurting from all the laughing, until Charlotte looked up, still in his arms.

"Promise me we'll never keep secrets from each other again?" She held her pinkie up.

A look of surprise came to his face before he nodded.

"I promise."

Their pinkies intertwined, sealing the deal.

"Glad we're okay now, Moony, but can we have breakfast? Don't want it getting any colder and I am kind of hungry." Charlotte pouted.

A look of confusion came for a second, before he remembered a table full of food just waiting to be eaten.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Hear, hear!" she let go of him and took off running "Race ya, Moony."

The amused man only followed her, not even bothering to run, he could have won – what with his werewolf speed -but of course, he wouldn't tell her that.

She was already sitting at the table when he got there, fixing her plate. The food, he noticed in appreciation, was his favorite. Every single food was made carefully, there wasn't any burns and was spicy, just the way he liked it. The smell made his mouth water in hunger, so he quickly sat across her, taking his wand and casting a heating charm in everything, before they started digging in.

"Moony?"

"…" he only hummed in response, mouth full.

"By the way, I know I won't have an ordinary life if I am with you. But you know… Normal is boring."

And just like that, the mischief in her eyes reappeared, making her appear like the girl she used to be years ago, when she was pure and oblivious to the world.

Her godfather laughed at that.

 _'A Black through and through ain't it, Sirius?_ ' Remus mused with a grin.

oOo

London, 13 February 1991

"…Happy Birthday, dear Charlie, Happy Birthday to you!"

The birthday girl was smiling from ear to ear, happy that the day had finally come. The day when she got eleven and would finally go to Hogwarts. She spent the last years, counting the days until she could do magic.

Remus taught her everything. From Herbology, to Potions and Transfiguration. Every single book, you name it, she read. Charlotte didn't like studying, thought, but she wanted to do well at school and make her godfather proud. So she memorized every sentence she could from Remus' old books. Some of them were more advanced to first-years, however, Charlotte liked knowing things forehand, and not only magical-related.

With the pass of time, she learned many things about the Muggle world and became fascinated by it. Of course, that had nothing to do with breaking any remaining ties with her pureblood freak family. Not at all.

Or maybe it had.

Charlotte grew up to be a very cheeky, confident girl, just like her father in his school' times. With everything that happened in her past, the girl realized that it wasn't worth it living to people's expectations and pretending to be someone you were not just for fear of not being accepted. She didn't care about it anymore. Now she had a family who loved her, and that's what mattered.

Speaking of, they were at the lake at Hill Cottage. Remus was standing by her side an amazing chocolate cake in his hands and eleven glittering gold candles on it, already alight. Andromeda, Ted and Tonks, who was making a ridiculous dance with her hands, before receiving a slap on the back of the head from her mother– something that got a snicker from Charlotte and a fake glare from Tonks -, were in front of her, all of them relaxing in the ground under the big maple tree.

Arthur and Molly Weasley sent their apologies for not making it – something about their daughter being sick -, but wished her a happy birthday all the same.

"Make a wish, Lottie!" Tonks liked being different, so she called her that instead.

Obliging, she closed her eyes thinking of something to wish for, but Charlie already knew what she wanted and it was something she asked every single birthday. Having much more moments like this and seeing her parents again one day. The second was impossible, but it did nothing to keep her from dreaming.

She blew the candles out, the others clapping – except Remus, whose hands were occupied -, and they cut the cake, the first slice, as usual, going to Remus. The family spent their time like that, just relaxing, eating and talking, until it was time to open the presents.

"Mine first!"

Tonks all but pushed her present into her hands, staring unblinkingly at Charlotte as if to say 'open'. When the girl unwrapped the present and took a look at it, she laughed, knowing Andy and Remus would freak out.

She got a book titled _A thousand ways to prank and not being discovered_. She loved it and told her cousin so.

"…why?"

Remus asked to the sky dramatically, thought one could see he wasn't mad. He looked amused if anything.

"Nymphadora Tonks!"

"What did I d—" another slap "Ouch, mom, it's just a book. I'm not telling her to blow up a toilet or anything… thought that would be fun, especially if there was someone sitting — OUCH! Alright, alright, I'll stop…STOP HITTING ME, WOMAN!"

"Watch out for your tongue, Nymphadora," the other cringed at the name "or I'll cut it off"

Ted merely watched them arguing as if it was a daily occurrence, drinking his tea with a grin on his face. While the other were distracted, Remus came close to Charlotte, a little box in his hands.

"This was your mother's." She stared at him "I hope you like it. Happy Birthday, dear."

She took the present in her hands, opening it carefully then gasping in awe.

Inside the box laid a beautiful white gold ring with a lone diamond at the middle, and on the inside words were engraved, she could read Forever yours, S. when she lifted to her eyes' height. It was hanging in a delicate silver chain.

"Your father gave it to your mother a few months after graduation. I remember him trembling in fear of her saying no." Remus chuckled.

Charlie had no words to describe what she was feeling, so she just hugged him, thanking for the best present she ever had. Something to keep her parents close.

"Thank you, Moony"

He helped her, putting it on her neck, her fingers instantly clasping around the ring, wishing to never let go.

They stayed like that for a while, but all of them looked up when they heard an owl coming in their direction, flying above them and dropping a letter directly on Charlotte's lap, then resting on one of the trees' branches.

The others stared expectantly at her.

"Is this-"

"Only one way to find out." Remus pointed to the letter in her hands.

Her hands were shaking as she inspected it.

 **Ms. C. Black**

 **Door to the right at the Second Floor**

 **8 Hill Cottage**

 **Yorkshire**

Her Hogwarts' letter. At last.

Opening it with more enthusiasm than before, she quickly scanned the words then read it out loud.

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

 **Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

 **Dear Ms. Black, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Minerva McGonagall,**

 **Deputy Headmistress**

Charlotte couldn't believe it. She was finally going to Hogwarts.

The girl squealed and brought everyone to a group hug, wishing to share her joy with her family. Now she thought about everything she could do while in school, and for a second, Tonks' idea didn't sound so bad. Actually, not bad at all.

Could anyone blame her for being like that when she was related to awesome pranksters?

'Hogwarts, here I come.'

oOo


	4. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 4 - Diagon Alley**

.

A girl with bright honey-grey eyes jumped up and down excitedly, her godfather only a few steps behind watching her with amusement as she all but squealed a 'hello' to everyone she passed by, gaining a few curious and frightened looks in response.

"…then we could go to Quidditch' Supplies, I need another broom after Dora send mine to Merlin knows where. Or we could go to Ollivander's first," She ranted "I'm so happy I'll finally be able to do magic. The things I could do… I was thinking of turning everyone's hair to another color, maybe blue or green… no. Not green. Slytherin's color, horrible…"

Someone behind her cleared their throat making her stop.

"I think it's best for us to get there before doing anything, dear" Remus chuckled "…and about that, I really hope you won't do anything. I wouldn't want to receive a letter informing me that you got detention on your first day of school."

"You are so boring, Moony." She pouted and he playfully slapped the back of her head.

"I don't remember being so boring when I taught you how to brew the potion that you intend to use, of what you spoke just now. But maybe you don't want my help anymore, as I'm not fun enough for your Majesty-"

With that, he turned around the way he came, faking sadness.

"No! No! I was just kidding, Moony!"

Then she took off running in his direction, grabbing his elbow and started dragging him all the way back. And off they went, walking through a group of muggles passing down the street, passing book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, until they finally reached their final destination. The Leaky Cauldron.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Remus. They waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, then said.

"Mr. Lupin, what a pleasure seeing you again! Came for a room or a drink? Don't tell me you finally back in action?"

"Afraid not, Tom, I'm on a special mission to take this little one," said Remus, clapping his hand on Charlotte's shoulder – who scowled at the 'little' part - and smiled. "for a bit of shopping."

"Hello there," said the bartender, peering at the girl, "is this — can this be —?"

Remus only nodded once.

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Charlotte Black."

He stared down at her for a few seconds, apparently searching for something. When he seemed not to find anything, Tom hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Charlotte and shook her hand, an awed look on his face.

"It's really nice to meet you, Miss Black." She didn't know what to say.

Everyone was looking at her, some had fear in their eyes, she noticed, as if she was a dangerous beast ready to attack. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.

"My, My…First Harry Potter, then you, Miss Charlotte. What a surprise!"

Said girl only look confused.

"Harry Potter?" before she turned to Remus who was listening and looking around the place in apprehension. "Uncle James and Aunt Lily's son?"

Her godfather merely nodded again and took her hand and said a quick goodbye to Tom before leading her away. Charlotte looked over her shoulder, waving with her free hand at the bartender and giving him a bright smile.

"Goodbye, Mr. Tom!"

Remus led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. The brown haired girl wanted to ask what was that all about, but took into his tense shoulders and decided to question him later, when he had calmed down.

The man, in the meantime, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Alright, stand back, dear."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his wand. The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Remus, Charlotte and other three people pass at the same time, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said the shaggy looking man, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Charlotte's amazement as she gaped at the sight. They stepped through the archway. Charlie looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"We gotta get your money first, so we'll go to the Gringotts then you can have a look around, alright?"

The only response he got was a slow nod, as if she had lost the ability to speak.

Charlotte wished she had about eight more eyes. The girl turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, 'Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad.'

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about her age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it – she understood, for she would do the same to stare at that beauty -. Remus seemed to read her thoughts as he turned her way, a grin on his face as if to say 'later'.

"Look," she heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments, most of them Charlie had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

"We are here."

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Remus quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Charlotte. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, she noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 ** _Enter, stranger, but take heed_**

 ** _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_**

 ** _For those who take, but do not earn,_**

 ** _Must pay most dearly in their turn._**

 ** _So if you seek beneath our floors_**

 ** _A treasure that was never yours,_**

 ** _Thief, you have been warned, beware_**

 ** _Of finding more than treasure there._**

"You were right, Moony. Goblins are definitely really strange." She whispered back at him, though she didn't take her eyes off of them.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Remus and Charlotte made for the counter.

"Morning," said Remus to a free goblin. "We've come to take some money out of Ms. Charlotte Black's safe."

"Key?"

Her godfather searched for something inside the pocket of his coat, fumbling with it for a few seconds before bringing out a tiny golden key that he put on the counter in front of the goblin.

The creature took it in his hands, examining the key for a moment. He looked at them again and came out from the back of the counter.

"Very well, follow me."

He held the door open for them. Charlotte, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. The goblin whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in and were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. The girl tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because the goblin wasn't steering. Charlie's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

Charlotte didn't know it would take so long or that her vault was at the lowest level of the bank, she was only sure that she did look green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Charlie got out and had to lean against the wall and breathe deeply to avoid vomiting all over the passage.

"Thanks for the heads up, Moony." She mumbled under her breath when said man patted her back softly. "Why mine is so deep down here?"

"Important, famous or ancient fortune and families' heirloom like yours, Ms. Black, are kept in the safest levels. You wouldn't believe the number of times people would try to break into one of them, but now, they would be dead before reaching even half path. No one dare to do it, nowadays, now if you excuse me."

He pushed her gently out of the way, guiding both Remus and her to a dark stone corridor, some torches on the walls lighting up as they passed by and droplets falling on her a few times, when the goblin suddenly stopped.

"Vault number 791"

The goblin unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Charlie gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze knuts. Hundreds of cups, goblets and all finest objects you could think of, shining in gold and silver, everything incrusted with diamonds and a different stone she remembered seeing once.

"Wow." Eyes wide open, she entered the vault touching everything she could get her hands on. She wasn't greedy or materialist, but she positively could marvel at how a beautiful sight was when the light of Remus' wand hit the golden surfaces, making all the room glow.

Her guardian came closer stopping beside then taking a little bag out of one of his pockets and extending towards her.

"Fill this with some coins, just enough to buy your things and keep some with you in case you need it at Hogwarts." Remus said.

Charlotte took the bag from his hands and walked to the pile of coins in the middle of the room. She grabbed a handful of galleons, sickles and knuts, before returning to Remus, only to trip on the foot of a table and falling to the ground, almost hitting her face, but luckily, her quick reflexes made her use her arms to lessen the fall.

"Charlotte, are you alright?" Remus came running, fearing the girl had hurt herself.

"I'm okay, Mo-OUCH" she grabbed the end of the table to lift herself up, but got a little silver pot instead, that came tumbling down and hit her square in the forehead. "Today' not my day. I'm turning into a clumsy like Dora" she huffed.

She made to get up when Charlotte took a look at the thing at fault for her pain. The pot was laying innocently on the ground by the pile of sickles, having rolled all the way after the fall, and she picked it up angrily, ready to send it flying across the room, but her eyes fell to the symbol on it, and curiosity took over.

The crest was dark silver as if its color was fading with time, there was a V line cutting the middle, above it, a big and beautiful 'B' was draw with a darker color, a little skull was at the top of it. Under the line, she noted, were three crows standing slightly distant from one another, one at the middle, and the other two at the farthest corners.

"Moony, what is that?" she pointed to the symbol.

"Your symbol."

However, that voice didn't belong to Remus. Both whirled in the goblin's direction, who spent the whole time simply watching all the fuss without doing anything. At her confused look, the goblin sighed, walking to her before taking the pot from her.

"It's the Black's family crest, Miss Black. Your family. All of their possessions have this symbol as a claim, you could say. Everything is passed, generation to generation, to the heirs. As your father was the last living person with the Black name, all inheritance was passed to him, unwillingly or not." He paused, his lips turning down to a frown. "On the other hand, with you being the heiress of the Black family and because of his situation at hand, your father has decided to pass all of his fortune to you, so everything in here belongs to you, Miss Black."

Charlotte didn't know what to make of it. Was it a good or bad thing? She tried to gather every information she got, maybe that was why her head was hurting. She had so many questions about her family, but at the moment, all she wanted was to get out of there before her head exploded, so Charlie blinked at him then nodded.

She snatched the bag full of coins, and together, the three of them left the place, the vault's door slamming shut with a loud sound, and got into the cart again, making their way back to the entrance.

The goblin kept the door open for them, light hitting their eyes as their shoes clinked against marble floor when they paced towards the door, Charlotte, as if remembering something, spun to the counter where the goblin went back to.

"What is your name, Mister?"

He regarded her with surprise and responded.

"Griphook."

"Nice to meet you, mister Griphook. Have a great day" She grinned.

The goblin gave her a small grin in return, showing pointy teeth.

"To you as well, Ms. Black."

oOo

"So what do you need, dear?"

Charlotte unfolded a piece of paper that came with her Hogwarts' letter and glanced at it.

 ** _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_**

 ** _of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_**

 ** _uniform_**

 ** _First-year students will require:_**

 _1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

 _2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

 _3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

 _4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

 _ **Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags**_

 _ **course books**_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

 _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

 _ **other equipment**_

 _1 wand_

 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

 _1 set glass or crystal phials_

 _1 telescope_

 _1 set brass scales_

 ** _Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_**

 ** _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_**

"That is a lot of stuff, Moony. Are you sure we'll finish buying everything today?"

Remus sighed mutely agreeing with her and looked at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Listen, dear, why don't you go get your uniform at Madam Malkin's place while I go get your books, then we could buy the rest after. We could go to the ice cream Parlor when we finish, if you want.

She beamed at her godfather, giving him her list, and entering Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling a bit nervous. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Charlotte started to speak. "Got the lot here — another two young men being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, there was two familiar boys, one was a boy with a pale, pointed face and bleach blond hair standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. The other had a pale complexion too, though not as pale as the other, slight messy black hair, emerald green eyes and wore round glasses held together with what it seemed like a lot of Scotch tape glasses on his face. His clothes were rather baggy, as if a whole four numbers bigger than him. In comparison to the smug looking boy on the stool, this one seemed pretty decent. Madam Malkin stood the messy haired on a stool next to the blondie, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the blond boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Charlotte was strongly reminded of the boys who used to annoy her at kindergarten.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said the black-haired one.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," from his face, Charlotte could gather that the boy was asking himself what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"

"No," said the other, apparently feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"If I had to share the same house with you, I certainly would leave."

Both of the boys spun their heard at the sound of her voice, giving her a chance to look at them better in a scrutinizing manner. Charlie identified one as being her cousin, an awful, spoiled brat that thought himself better than everyone else, and she was glad she never had to spent more than five minutes in his company before.

"Black." The blonde's face turned into an ugly sneer as he stared down at her in seemingly disgust.

"Malfoy."

She said emotionlessly at him, the disgust was mutual and evident in her features, the girl didn't even bother to hide it. Before the boy could say anything else, Charlie turned her back on her cousin, ignoring him, and faced the boy who kept himself quiet as the other two glared at each other. He regarded her with a slightly intimidated expression, as if he feared another questioning, but it quickly became one of relief when he saw the sincere smile coming his way.

"Don't mind him, this idiot just thinks too highly of himself because he a Daddy's spoiled brat, look at the bright side, you don't share any blood relations with him…" she huffed and then turned her head to the right, her brown locks falling on her shoulder as she did, when she remembered something. "How rude of me. I am Charlotte Black, by the way, but you can call me Charlie. And you?"

"Harry," he was a bit shy and spoke softly.

She shook his hand firmly and was about to say something but was interrupted when her cousin, tired of being treated like he wasn't even in the room, pointed something outside the shop.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

She met Hagrid in a few occasions, especially when he came to her house, smiling big at her every time, to convey some of Dumbledore's messages to Remus about something 'she wasn't allowed to know'. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. Even though he could have a scary appearance at first sight, Hagrid was a sweet guy; it was very difficult to make him mad, and the only time she saw it happen was when an arrogant man called Remus an unworthy half-breed. Suffice to say, the giant was furious.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, obviously pleased to know something the boy didn't.

"He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the Malfoy,

"I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

At that, both Charlotte and Harry glared at the kid.

"He's not a servant, Malfoy."

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"Shut up."

Charlie 's fingers were itching to strangle him to death.

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the blondie, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"Draco!"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said Draco, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"You are such a tactless idiot," the girl hissed angrily.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer or Charlotte could give him a piece of her mind, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to Draco, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry said nothing in return, nonetheless, he offered Charlotte a small smile and a wave as he was leaving Madam Malkin's shop.

"It was nice to meet you, Harry. See ya at Hogwarts!"

She waved until he was out of sight and the door closed, the cold air entering and filling the room, making goosebumps raise in her covered arms. Madam Malkin took her to the stool and began measuring her while the second lady finished Draco's uniform.

"Don't you think you should go back to your excuse for a godfather? He might get lost being so stupid as he is. And by the way, what was he wearing? Even my house-elves have better clothes than that filthy rags."

Rage filled her as she heard Malfoy badmouthing her guardian. She whirled and glared so intently at him that he took a step back, seizing a white bag with a brand new uniform that the lady just gave him.

"I don't know, and shouldn't you go back to your pathetic scumbag of a father, otherwise HE could get lost, what with his fried neurons, if he ever got one," Charlotte swore she heard Miss Malkin giggling behind her, before she covered it up with a cough. "but then again, it seems like this is a very serious condition of the Malfoy family, isn't it?"

"Don't you say a word against my family, Black!"

To say he was angry would be an understatement, Draco was positively fuming and his pale face turned red. Charlotte would be lying if she said that she wasn't absolutely delighted – if the grin on her face meant something - for getting a reaction out of him, but she could not be blamed, she thought, he started it.

Malfoy was almost attacking her when one of the woman stopped right in front of him, pushing him away from the girl.

"No, no. No fighting in here, mister. Off you go." He grabbed some galleons out of his pocket and slammed it on the dark stoned counter on the way out, acting like a child who just had been scolded.

"What a big baby…"

oOo

As Madam Malkin's shop wasn't crowed – no other costumer came when she was inside the building-, it did not take too long for her to grab her new school robes, and she exited not long after, hoping to find Remus' location.

He was shopping Charlotte's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.

She stumbled into the building, rubbing her hands repeatedly, to recover the warmth. Charlotte found her guardian at back of the store where a lot of people were speaking loudly, swaying their arms around, trying to block anyone who tried to take the same desired book – a chubby old lady with curly black hair ended up hitting Remus, who was the closest person to her, on the forehead, and from the distance, Charlotte saw his wince. ' _Poor Moony_ '-. She found a section in the store which caught her interest and she lost track of time. That was how Remus found her and almost had to drag the girl away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

Remus wouldn't let Charlotte buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on your list, dear"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While her godfather asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for her, Charlie herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Remus checked Charlotte's list again.

"Just your wand and a pet left, which one do you want go f—"

The beaming girl gave him no time to finish and dragged him, again, by the elbow to the pet's store. A few minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Charlotte now carried a sleeping kitten with caramel fur and beautiful dark blue eyes and Remus had a large cage that held a beautiful brown owl, chirping every once in a while to the nearby people. Both of them were male and the girl named the little cat Chip – the boy turned into a teacup from _Beauty and the Beast_ , because both of them had the same hair color, she noticed – and Maurice or Mau – Beauty's dad, also from the said book-. Remus laughed and shook his head at that, her obsession hadn't fade with time, it only deepened as it seemed.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

She gave the sleeping fur ball to Remus and opened the door.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair. Charlotte felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. The girl jumped and little squeal escaped her.

An old man was standing before her, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said she awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Charlotte Black." It wasn't a question. "You look like your father. It seems only yesterday he was in here himself, buying his first wand. Twelve inches long, unyielding, Unicorn hair, made of fir. Nice wand for Transfiguration."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Charlotte and she wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured her from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he spoke to her.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Black. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Charlotte suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms. Black. Try this one. Maple and dragon heartstring. Eight and a quarter inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

She took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

"Blackthorn and Unicorn hair. Twelve inches. Quite whippy. Try —"

Charlie tried — but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, holly and unicorn hair, seven inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

She tried. And tried. Charlotte had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Another tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — an unusual, but powerful, combination — Yew and phoenix feather, ten and a half inches, slightly springy."

Charlotte took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and she stared in awe as a stream gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

"Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . ." He put Charlotte's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, or witch in this case, Ms. Black. This wand," he pointed to the wrapped package, tapping it twice with his finger. "see a great amount of potential in you, otherwise, it would had never chosen you, remember… "

The brown haired girl shivered thinking how much of a weirdo Mr. Ollivander was. A fantastic man, but a weirdo nonetheless. She paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed to her from his shop.

oOo

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Remus and Charlotte made their way back down Diagon Alley, after they made a quick stop at ice cream Parlor – she trying to get her wand out of the box to get a bit of action started and Remus slapping her hands away every time her fingers would slide across the table to reach the package-, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty.

When they got home, her tired godfather brought all the bags to her bedroom, gently dropping it everything on the floor by her closet with a muffled thud and she threw herself on her bed, her limbs aching and hair flying on her face, and stared blankly at the ceiling with a pondering expression, while her fingers played with the sheets underneath her.

Everything was silent as Remus sat on her bed, caressing her head, sensing something was wrong.

"People think I am bad, don't they?"

Out of everything she could ask, he never imagined something like that. A frown took over his face. "Why do you say that, dear? Of course they don't—"

"I saw the way people were looking at me, Moony. Every single time, my name didn't even have to be mentioned for them to know who I am," The girl sighed sadly. "I look just like him…my father, and they will always judge me for it."

"That may be true, honey, but the choice is yours whether to take them seriously or not." His large palm clutched her cheek and turned her to look him in the eye. "People will always judge you, Charlotte, being perfect or not. If they find something unalike in you, they will criticize you, bring you down, make you feel like you're not worth it because they want to feel superior themselves, ignoring their owns flaws to point someone else's'. That's what humans do."

He spoke like he understood what it meant to be judged, and of course he had, Remus' life was never easy with the werewolf problem.

"…and about you father," he drawled "You may look like him, but you are not compelled to be the same as him personality wise. He's done bad things, but you aren't the same person—"

"What if I want to be like him? I know what you think about it, Moony, but I don't believe he's guilty. It does not make sense… I just— "

Tears welled up in her eyes threatening to fall any second.

"He's my dad, Moony… I have to believe he is a good man, or no one will. Mom thought so too, and she knew him better than anyone, then why…? I just wish to see him once more, so he could tell us this was all a big mistake — that he's innocent and we can go back to being a family…"

He felt like he was back at that night when he lost everything, when he was hopeless and had no idea what to do. Remus desperately wanted to make her wish come true, but he couldn't, so he did what he could and brought her to his arms, not saying anything, but only giving the comfort she needed. All the while, he kept wondering if God would deny such thing from a pure child that has lost so much in her life.

Remus might have lost his trust on Sirius, but he certainly hoped not.

oOo


	5. Platform Nine and Three-Quartes

**Sorry for the delay, guys, but I'm back with the biggest chapter so far. I hope you enjoy it**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 5 - Platform Nine and Three-Quarters**

.

 _1st September_

 _._

"Charlotte, dear, it's time to wake up."

Said girl was still in the faraway dreamland, paying the voice no mind. Brown hair spilling across the mattress and small hands clutching the pillow closer to her body. The sheets were half across her legs and half to the floor, probably due to her rolling and moving the whole night.

A soft snore came from a caramel fur ball that was lying beside her head, Chip woke up, purring and stretching its paws in an adorable lazy manner, then opened his eyes looking for the source of the noise, only to fall back down asleep not a minute after. On the other side of the room, a drowsy owl had its head under one of its wings, uncaring to the commotion.

The morning air filled the room, a light breeze blowing the curtains and the sunlight made its way into the room slipping past the opened wooden window. With the autumn, green turned to a combination of brown, orange and yellow, the maple tree that before had a greenish olive pigment was now a slight darker shade of orange, giving it – in Charlotte's opinion - the resemblance of a huge pumpkin. Many of its leaves fell scattered across the grass, being carried by the wind some flying away to an unknown place, other stopped at the lake's surface and the rest, to Remus dismay, ended up in her room every time she would forget to close her window – something that happened more than once a while.

Autumn forever was her most favorite season, the weather was perfect, not too hot or too cold – to her at least, who didn't like the sticky feeling she got whenever summer came, forcing her to be stuck inside of the cottage and her godfather would cast a cooling spell in the house – How could muggles survive without magic?

All the same, one of the events of the season was the Halloween, and since long neither Remus or Charlotte celebrated it anymore. The man because of the dreadful memories the day brought back, memories he so longed to erase from his mind permanently, as for the grey eyed girl, she just didn't want that emotionless expression that he had every Halloween's night, looking at her every five minutes to check on her as if someone would attack her if he dared to get her out of his sight.

Charlotte knew that there still was a part of him that blamed himself for her mother's death, no matter how many years has passed. Remus loved Isabelle like the little sister he never had. He should have been there, he would say, muttering more to himself than to her about his total lack of sense to notice something was wrong.

Suffice to say, the 'trick or treat' day was lost to them, both opting to do something else to distract themselves, trying to avoid their thoughts slipping in an unwanted direction. Only it would be harder on him this year with her going to Hogwarts. Charlotte hoped he would be alright.

"Charlie, come on, get up." Her godfather called again, this time knocking on the door twice, still receiving no reply.

The doorknob spun and a hand appeared, pushing the door open. Not even a few seconds after, a fatigued Remus crossed the threshold and entered the bedroom – the full moon was only a week before and he obviously was still recovering from it -, almost tripping on one of her boots that she carelessly threw to the floor.

As usual.

He tutted in disapproval, shaking his head and walking over to her bed where two sleepyheads laid. One curled even more in her pillow, legs drawn to her chest in fetal position, the wind blowing a few strands of hair to her face, a hand soon rubbing her nose at the tickling feeling, - and the other copying her, curled against his owner's hair, sneezing when a brownish leaf dropped right at his head.

He stared at the sight in front of him, a little smile at the corner of his mouth at his goddaughter's innocent face. It almost made him feel bad for waking her.

Almost.

"Dear, it's time to get up or we'll be late,"

He tried to shook her awake to no avail, she mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

"Charlie!"

"Five minutes, Moony…" she finally reacted, even for a second, but simply turned around and tried to sleep once more.

An idea came to Remus and a smile full of mischief made its way to his lips.

"Suit yourself."

Charlotte found weird that he decided to let her go so suddenly, why, she didn't know, however she did not dwell on it for much longer, choosing to snuggle herself in the sheets, a deep part of her mind still wondering about Remus. The response soon came as a full bucket of ice cold water to her head.

Literally.

"What the bloody hell, Moony!"

The bed was soaked and so was she, with water dripping drown her hair. She got out of the bed in a jump only to fall full face to ground, her legs tangled in the now drenched sheets.

Chip, that was sleeping ever so peacefully, ran away from the bed as the cold water caught him, and hissed in annoyance at Remus, as if blaming him for the rudely awakening. On her desk table by the window, Maurice chirped in surprise, staring at the two agitatedly.

"Language, Charlie," Her guardian said, but she could clearly see that he was forcing himself not to break into laughter at the sight of her. "I tried to warn you, not my fault. Now go get ready. We need to be at King's Cross before eleven."

She huffed.

"Was it really necessary?" pointing to the now empty bucket in his left hand, she went to her wardrobe, searching for some clean clothes.

"No," he confessed. "But it was funny."

And only then he started laughing at her expense.

oOo

The car was loaded and they just finished breakfast and were getting ready to go to the station. She got into the car putting the seat belt, Remus doing the same-, settling Chip on her lap, and got a bar of chocolate out of a pocket of her brown leather jacket, breaking in half and giving it to her godfather who accepted gratefully – as if he would refuse a piece of the sweet heaven -, and took a bite herself.

"Have you got everything?"

"Yes, Moony."

"All books?"

"Check."

"Warm clothes?"

"Double check."

"Wand?"

"Yep."

"What about your uniform—?"

She interrupted Remus.

"Yes, Moony. I got everything, don't worry."

"Hard not to, it's you we are talking about." The man sent a playful smile her way while she replied with her own cheeky smile that was so similar to her father's.

"Look who's talking! I bet you, marauders, got detention on your first week, and don't think I am naïve enough to believe you had nothing to do with their pranks, if anything, you are the one who planned everything, right, Moony?" She gave emphasis to the name.

At least he had the decency of looking guilty.

"Well, not exactly on or first week…" he turned to Charlie, whose eyebrow was lifted in an unimpressed fashion.

"What a hypocrite,"

The girl whispered so lowly that he merely could hear it because of his acute senses.

"Hey! Just so you know, I was not the one to plan anything," her face remained the same. "…alright, I came up with the ideas to make everything work, but Prongs and Padfoot were the ones who always liked pranking every single day, mostly the Slytherins."

"So you could have denied to do it and prevent many people from being humiliate in front of the whole school, yet you choose to help them with thousands of pranks that might have, I don't know, let everyone think that you all were attention-seeking prats, like mom and aunt Lily did?"

"Well…"

"My point, exactly."

If someone were to see her face, they would think she was totally serious about it, thought on the inside, she was controlling herself not to burst into a fit of snickers at her godfather's face. That's what he got for dripping cold water on her.

' _Vengeance is sweet, isn't it, Moony'_

Charlotte gave a few little slaps on his shoulder, mockingly, and smiled in a odd way.

"Don't worry, Moony, your dirty secret is safe with me."

"…"

The drive took nearly a whole hour – blame it on Remus for living nearly at the outskirts of the town -, and she thought it was a miracle that they arrived with twenty minutes to spare.

King's Cross was completely packed; many people were steering their trolleys trying not to crash into anybody else. It was pointless though. Walking in that place without accidentally bumping shoulders with a passerby was just about an impossible task. Even now, Charlotte and Remus had to push their way through the crowd to get to the platform.

Twelve minutes.

They dodged, pushed, and ran, being yelled at by some unfortunate person that was in their path, when they finally arrived, panting and exhausted, at a less crowed area, that coincidentally was the one they were looking for. Charlotte could already see the sign to platform nine a few steps ahead of her, and the platform ten to the right side.

"I must run to that wall, right Moony?"

She pointed to the barrier between the platforms nine and ten and Remus nodded.

"Yes, dear. And we better do it now, don't want any muggle sighting us, do we?"

Charlotte seized her trolley out of her godfather's hands, and positioned herself in front of the brick wall, looking at it with a face of determination. She took a deep breath and sprinted towards the barrier, the last thing she saw before vanishing to the other side was a couple of tourists with their backs turned on her. Hopefully they didn't see anything.

When she opened her eyes, the first sight she had was of a scarlet steam engine that was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, only a few minutes to eleven o'clock. Charlotte looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

Remus appeared at her side not long after with a disgruntled cat in his arms, apparently Chip did not enjoy that ride as much as his owner did.

"I don't think he likes me that much," the man extended the feline in her direction.

"He would like you better had you not give him a bath this morning, Moony."

He smiled at her retort.

"Maybe you're right,"

"I always am."

Remus shook his head in amusement and together, they walked closer to the train.

A family full of ginger heads were talking by one of the train's entrances, and what a big family that was. Charlotte had a spark of recognition as she thought about the only people she knew with that bright hair color.

"That's the Weasleys!"

With that she took Remus' wrist with one hand while the other guided her trolley to an annoyed looking ginger woman with an identical color haired girl, who seemed younger than Charlotte, hugging her mother's waist imploringly.

"…for the last time, Ginny, you'll have to wait 'til next year to go to Hogwarts!"

Ginny pouted sadly but didn't respond.

"Ms. Weasley!" Both heads whipped towards a skipping brown haired girl that was waving ever so excitedly at them.

The girl could see the rest of the family a little behind them, the twins were apparently telling some sort of tale to their youngest brother and his face would change to confusion, to frustration and then one of horror. She loved those two troublemakers to death, Hogwarts would be awesome with them as company, she thought. Mr. Weasley was looking around with an analyzing look and an impressed smile in his face, while the oldest of the boys was just standing there with a pompous expression.

Smug idiot.

Just because he's been chosen as a prefect he acted like he was better than everyone else, Charlotte ranted in her mind seeing the shiny badge in his uniform. Out of the whole Weasley' lot, Percy was her least favorite for more than the obvious reasons.

"Charlotte, dear! So good to see you." The woman gave her a motherly hug, then took Charlie's face in her hands. "How are you, darling? I hope all is in order. Have you got your things—?"

The girl chuckled.

"I'm fine, Ms. Weasley, and I got everything. I swear you and Moony sound like the same person sometimes."

"I'll take it as a complement,"

Another voice said and only then the woman noticed the person behind Charlotte.

"Oh, there you are, Remus!" she brought him to a tight embrace before putting her hands on his shoulders. "Everything alright, I hope. Do you need anything, Remus?"

"Thank you, Molly, but no, everything's fine. Don't worry." Remus gave her a small, but sincere smile. "This little one's just wanted to talk to you before boarding."

Charlotte scowled. She wasn't little, her height was average, nor to short or too small, never mind the fact she was only eleven. Remus was the one at fault. He was nearly 6'3 for Merlin's sake.

Molly turned the attention to the pouting girl.

"Are you excited, dear?"

"Yep. Can hardly wait. There's so many possibilities. I'll finally do magic; can you believe it?" she spoke fast and the ginger woman almost laughed at her enthusiasm. "It will make my pranks even better, just like Moony taught me—?"

In her ranting, she did not took notice the said man flaying his arms around for her to stop talking, nor the peeved looking Molly that was now glaring at him.

"What were you thinking, Remus? Teaching things like that to her when she should be focusing on her studies, not silly pranks!"

To his luck, a clock ringing echoed through the platform, informing the soon to be students that they should board the train. Remus glanced at his watch and realized there was only less than five minutes left to eleven o'clock.

"Sorry to cut this short, Molly, but it seems it's time to go." He said nervously and turned to Charlotte. "Let's get going, wouldn't want you to be late."

"Alright." She noticed what he was doing and took her stuff quickly, spinning to the train's way. "Goodbye, Ms. Weasley."

"I want to go to Hogwarts too…" Remus and Charlotte began to walk off and caught on the little whisper.

"Don't worry, Ginny. I'll send you tons of letters." She said over her shoulder and waved at the small girl that smiled and nodded eagerly in thanks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Charlotte ushered her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed a round-faced boy who was saying,

"Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville,_ " _s_ he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Charlotte pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train then faced her godfather.

"Well, this is where I leave you."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'll miss you, Moony."

"I'll miss you too, my little firebird."

Tears came to her eyes and she tried, unsuccessfully, to blink them away.

Remus came up with that nickname a few years back, saying that it suited her. By firebird he meant phoenixes, beautiful creatures that caught in flames when their time came, and then they would reborn from the ashes. A phoenix had no owner and was not a tamable being. If they were to find someone worth of his loyalty, then the bird could choose to create a bond until its 'master's' death.

But that was a choice completely up to them. Phoenix were born to float across the sky, untouchable. Free.

And that's where it came from, since her name's meaning, according to Remus, meant freedom. She wasn't someone who could be manipulated nor tamed. Charlotte realized a long ago that the indoors were not made for her. A curious being like her had an insatiable need for adventure and had no intention of spending her life inside the safety of a house like a caged creature.

The first time he had call her a firebird she was confused, but now Charlotte could not help the spark of delight that she always felt when her godfather would say that, a proud smile on his face each time.

Though there were times Remus would compare her to a coyote.

She could understand why. A coyote's definition was one of a sneaky animal who was known as a prankster –something that she could relate herself to. Both of them were perceptive and smart, and even though they were playful beings, they knew how to distinguish risk and safety in a life-threatening situation.

All in all, she was glad to listen Remus say she had such remarkable traits. The phoenix' notion of freedom and the coyote's spirit and perspicacity.

Charlotte hugged Remus goodbye, accepting a soft kiss on her forehead. Her godfather whispered a farewell in her hair before his arms slowly left her form and dropped to his sides.

"Will you be okay?"

"…"

He hesitated. Remus knew what she meant to ask. Would he be alright living all alone for nearly a year without his little girl to distract him from his dreadful thoughts and haunting memories?

No. He would not. But of course he wouldn't tell her that.

"Of course I will, dear. No need to fret over me," He tried to lie but the girl saw right through it.

"Hard not to, it's you we are talking about." She said half-heartedly, mocking his early words, but then her face turned solemn again "Just take care, alright?"

He nodded.

"I will, promise."

"Okay,"

A silence took over and Remus swiftly broke it clearing his throat.

"Mm… you should go, it's almost time to leave." They shared a last hug before Charlotte grabbed her trolley and steered in the direction where a train's worker was.

The man gaped at her – after gasping as though seeing a ghost – and carried her trunk into the train, all the way murmuring something about 'how certain people shouldn't be allowed to be in contact with sweet, innocent children' and 'they must be mad letting someone like that inside the school'.

How rude.

She scowled at the man, and childishly stuck her tongue out while he wasn't looking. Maurice's cage in on hand and Chip in the other, Charlotte returned to the surprisingly still empty compartment, spinning around to catch a last glance of Remus. The shabby looking man was standing at the same spot with a glint of laughter in his features. Apparently, he had seen her childlike moment and took great fun of it.

"Love ya, Moony!" She waved and beamed brightly at her godfather, sliding the door open before entering the train.

Remus took his time analyzing every feature in her face, dreading the months away from her, but glad because his little girl was finally realizing one of her most desired dreams. Who was he to get in the way of her happiness?

 _'_ _As I love you, little firebird.'_

The moment the door was closed and he could see her no more, the slightly miserable man made his way back to a ginger family where a still seething Ms. Weasley was just waiting to give him an earful.

Fantastic.

oOo

Letting Maurice's cage on the corner of the comfy bench, Charlotte sat down by the window, - Chip nestled beside her thigh and started licking his paw -, staring at the families still kissing their relatives' goodbye, tears welling up in their eyes before the kids all but ran inside the train and looked for an empty compartment.

The girl lost herself in her thoughts, wondering what would it be like if it was her out there with her parents instead. Would they smile and embrace her like that? Would they miss her while she was gone?

Her musing was broken when the door slid open and a black haired head peeked shyly into the room. Charlotte recognized the boy from the Madam Malkin's shop and beckoned him in.

"H-hi, do you mind if I seat here?"

The baggy clothed boy with round glasses and green eyes questioned, not quite meeting her eyes, but staring at his shoes instead.

"Of course not… Harry, right?" he finally looked up at her in surprise, wondering how she knew his name. "I'm Charlotte, remember? We met at Madam Malkin's shop yesterday."

He did. Despite the fact that she didn't know, Harry was glad she interfered his conversation with the Malfoy boy, and though he still thought her to be a little intimidating -even for a simple eleven-year-old girl-, Harry could not help but return the smile she was giving him.

Charlotte examined the boy who was midway out of the door grabbing his stuff that were left outside – seemingly, he thought she wouldn't let him stay. He looked so familiar…

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but…What's your last name, Harry?"

He looked over his shoulder for a second. "Potter."

In that moment, Charlotte choked in a breath.

"Potter? Harry Potter?" the boy nodded, albeit a little annoyed for he thought she would start ogling at him like everyone else did when they recognized him. "You are uncle James' son!"

Charlotte knew he was the-boy-who-lived whom everyone was talking about, however, she though it would be rude to point it out. Poor Harry got enough attention as it is, and besides, she was still stuck to the fact that the boy she so longed to meet was right in front of her.

Whatever Harry was expecting, was definitely not that. He stopped trying to pull his trunk into the compartment and turned his curious gaze to her.

"Uncle? You knew my dad— hey! You can't be much older than me and my father died when I was a baby so how—?"

She chuckled.

"No, I did not meet him, but Moony was one of your father's best friends and from what he told me, we used to play together all the time when we were babies. I always called him uncle even though we're not related by blood, you know."

"Moony?"

"Oh, sorry. Sometimes I forget not everyone knows who he is," she slapped her forehead. "My godfather. His name is Remus."

Harry didn't know how to feel about it. Here he was with someone who obviously knew more about his parents than he did and lived with someone that was friends with his father and he felt slight jealous about it. On the other hand, this could be a chance for him to discover things about his past and perhaps, make a friend.

In his eleven years, Harry has never had a single friend, thanks to his stupid cousin Dudley.

Now that he stared at the girl in front of him, who regarded him like an old comrade and a normal person, and not as a celebrity, Harry could only hope that she would like him so he could finally have someone to call friend. In his wishful thinking, he failed to notice that Charlotte was speaking something.

"… uncle James bought me my first broom when I was barely one year and half. Moony said my mom went berserk screaming at him for trying to get me in such game. Too dangerous, she said. Obviously aunt Lily agreed with her. According to Moony, both of them weren't too fond of Quidditch, though the broom stayed in the end— "

"Aunt Lily?" All of her words went forgotten when Harry heard the name of his late mother.

"Our mothers were best friends too. She's also my godmother, not a surprise, really. Who would have thought we would meet again after all these years, right?"

"Right," a surprise indeed.

Harry returned to the task of getting his stuff inside the room. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

A snicker accidentally left Charlie's lips at the view and she opened her mouth to ask him if he wanted help, when a shadow passed through the glass stopping at the door, making the two glance up.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you —?"

"He _is,_ " said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

" _Harry Potter,_ " chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, someone took the attention off him.

"Could you stop that? You're making him uncomfortable, morons!" The twins turned their heads to the voice, only then taking notice of the small girl in the corner that was shaking her head in disapproval.

"Fair Lady!"

"We knew— "

"You wouldn't— "

"Abandon us!"

She tried to put on a fake irritated face but everyone could see a smile fighting its way to her face. It all began as a joke, they called her that for being the heiress to the Black family, so as long as she was around, the twins would act all royal and posh-like just for the sake of annoying the wits out of her. Most of the time, it worked.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" Charlotte huffed.

"What do ya' think, George?"

"I'm not sure, Fred. Do you think we should stop?"

The red-headed twins exchanged a glance and replied together.

"Nah."

"It would not— "

"Be as funny— "

"If we didn't— "

"Call you that— "

"Fair Lady."

She screamed in frustration, untying the knots in her shoelace, ready to toss it on their heads, but before she could even take her shoe off, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom." Throwing a mocking grin at Charlotte, Fred and George got ready to leave. "See ya' around, Fair Lady!"

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

"One of these days I'll strangle those two to death." She murmured but the black-haired boy could listen.

Harry sat down next to the window across from Charlie was, half hidden, they could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

" _Mom_ — geroff." He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and both Charlotte and Harry noticed a shiny red and gold badge on his chest with the letter _P_ on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"

Like Charlotte thought, a smug idiot.

"Oh, are you a _prefect,_ Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once —"

"Or twice —"

"A minute —"

"All summer —"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a _prefect,_ " said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term — send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've — you've blown up a toilet or —"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

Charlotte stuffed a laugh at that. Great idea, indeed.

"It's _not funny._ And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking, however the brown haired girl stayed put, used to be caught eavesdropping.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

" _Harry Potter_!"

What with these people and indiscretion? Charlotte thought.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please..." she and Harry heard Ginny's voice.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."

Charlotte sent an apologetic look to the boy that he easily waved off with a smile as if to say he didn't mind.

"Poor _dear_ — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Oh, Merlin… Charlotte only hoped none of them would be stupid enough to question Harry himself about something that would be clearly difficult for him to talk about.

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on." A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat." Charlie giggled.

" _George_!"

"Only joking, Mom."

"I'll send you one of the Gryffindor's bedposts, Ginny!"

Charlotte had her upper half out the window and wore a cheeky grin. The ginger girl laughed.

" _Charlotte_!"

"Sorry, Ms. Weasley!"

The train began to move and she returned to her seat. Harry and Charlotte saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

They watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind. Charlotte too was excited, though there was a part of her that was already missing her caramel-haired godfather.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry, where Charlie was scratching behind Chip's ears. "Everywhere else is full."

"Come in, Ron." She said patting the seat next to her with her free hand.

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then." They paused in a synchronized move, a smirk forming in their faces. "Bye, Fair Lady."

This time she was faster, a shoe flying across the compartment a second after, missing its target merely by a few inches before hitting the wall and falling to the floor with a thud.

The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them and walked off, cackling like mad at her all the while.

"Bye," said Harry and Ron before they could get out of ear range.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded, giving Charlotte her shoe back. She thanked him with a smile.

"Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got — you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

"Dear Godric, Ron…" Charlotte could not believe he was being so nosy and fixed him with an exasperated look. She was ignored, of course.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who —?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.

"Er — yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"What about you Charlotte?" Harry questioned her.

"All wizards, I reckon," she paused. "From what I know my mother was a pureblood. Well, I'm certain all of my father's family were wizards, they were against marrying anyone other than a pureblood. Freaks, the whole lot of them—excluding Aunt Andy, of course."

"Was? How can she not be a pureblood anymore?" Harry looked between the girl and the ginger boy confused. Was that even possible, he thought.

The tips of Ron's ear went slight red as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Charlotte started fiddling with her fingers, not quite meeting their eyes.

"You can't just stop being a pureblood—My mother died when I was four. Since then I live with Moony."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know— "

"Not your fault, Harry. Don't worry." She offered him a small, but sincere smile.

Never had him encountered someone who could understand what he felt.

All his life, Harry would see family walking to the park, parents hugging their children so lovingly, that every time he would have the feeling of longing squeezing his heart. How many times he hoped to be the one being hugged like that, to have his parents embrace him at least once. To have his dad ruffling his already messy hair, a proud look in his features and his mother, whose eyes were the same as his emerald green ones, smiling sweetly at him with so much love only a mother could have.

However, he knew James and Lily were no more. They wouldn't come back and Harry would spend his life seeing the other kids with their own parents, all alone.

Now here he was, with someone who had lost a loved one just like he had and it just made him the more encouraged to befriend her. Finally, Harry would have someone who would understand him.

Thought he was not oblivious to the fact she didn't mention her father at all and she said she lived with her godfather. The boy didn't want to pry, fearing to somehow offend her if he asked her about her father, so he kept quiet.

An awkward silence filled the room until Ron broke it, hoping to distract his friend.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible — well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff— I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window. Charlotte knew he was embarrassed for their lack of money; although she didn't know why. He had an amazing family, so why he should care about how many galleons they had. The girl would gladly give away everything in her vault just to have a chance to see her family united again.

Harry too didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents.

This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"...and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort —" Ron gasped.

"Oh, grow up, Ron," Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"What?" said Harry.

" _You said You-Know-Who's name_!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people —"

"I'm not trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn… I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be, Harry. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough," Charlotte tried to reassure him. "Besides, I spent all these years been taught by Moony. I'll help you if you need. That what friends are for."

In that moment, Harry felt like a huge weight lifted off his shoulders and he beamed at her.

Friends.

He definitely liked the word.

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Charlotte gave him a glance then she and Harry went out into the corridor.

They saw several colored sweets, none of them could be recognized by the boy. There was Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Charlotte had never experimented. they got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as they brought it all back in to the compartment, sitting on the same bench, and tipped it onto an empty seat between them.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on —"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Don't be shy, Ron." She tossed him one of her Cauldron Cakes, knowing it was one of his favorite.

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Charlotte and Ron, eating their way through all their pasties, cakes, and candies—the sandwiches lay forgotten.

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No," said Ron.

"It's just a charm,"

"But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know — Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect — famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

"I got two Ptolemy here," Charlotte told him.

"Bloody hell, how did you got two of them?" Ron complained. "I have been searching for years,"

Charlotte shrugged.

She grabbed her trunk and searched for something inside the front pocket, rummaging in it for a few minutes before taking a case that surprisingly was way too big to fit in that small space. When she noticed the unbelieving looks the boys gave her, she merely said, "Extension Charm." Then she proceeded to find the right card and gave it to her eager friend.

"Thanks, Charlie! Only one more to go"

While she helped herself to a licorice wand, Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card.

"So _this_ is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

Charlotte came closer to him and took a look at the card.

It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"He's our headmaster, didn't you know?"

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron.

"Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa — thanks —" Harry turned over his card and read:

* * *

 ** _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_**

 _Currently headmaster of Hogwarts_

 _Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times,_

 _Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the_

 _Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

* * *

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"He'll be back," Charlotte said. "It happens all the time."

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her . . . do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. " _Weird_!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. A muggle would think the same if they happen to see a magical moving photo as if it was a movie,"

"What's a moovy?" Ron questioned, confused.

"M-o-v-i-e. Honestly, Ron…" then she explained to him many of the wonders of the muggle world related to movies.

An hour after, Harry was staring as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile and Charlotte got a book out and drowned herself into the words, stopping every once in a while to bite on a few Pumpkin Pasties. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcraft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they _mean_ every flavor — you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."

"It's true." Charlotte agreed.

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh — see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Charlotte got coconut, blueberry, curry, grass and coffee, and Harry was brave enough to nibble the end of a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry and Charlotte shook her head in agreement.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him . . ." He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look . . ."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway —"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down. Ron looked taken aback. "Er — all right."

She seemed… nice, Charlotte thought. Something about the way she talked didn't look real, however, like she was forcing herself to look superior. She wondered if the girl was a muggleborn, maybe that's why she was so insecure.

He cleared his throat.

" _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow._ "

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She said all this very fast and like Charlie assumed, she was a muggleborn.

 _'_ _I really hope she realize she won't make any friends if she continues with this fake conceited behavior. '_

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Charlotte Black," she gave the girl a smile that she returned slightly, after gasping in surprise at her last name. Obviously the Hermione girl knew a bit about her, but thought better than to say anything.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._ "

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"Don't know how you could fall for that—again," Charlie chuckled.

"Oh, shut it, Charlie…" he grinned at his friend.

"What House are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw _would_ be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the House Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off Houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet,_ but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles — someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

This time, Charlotte answered.

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. Moony says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case Vold—Sorry, Ron—You-Know-Who's behind it."

Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying. On the other hand, Charlotte rolled her eyes., she would say the name if she wanted to and wasn't afraid to do it.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er — I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded.

"He spent this whole time oblivious to magic, idiot." She berated him but was more than happy to join a conversation about Quidditch.

"Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world —" And he was off, Charlotte cutting in sometimes, and both started explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. They were just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

Meanwhile, Charlotte threw a look of pure disdain in her cousin's direction, hoping that if she glared hard enough he would burst in flames.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Just go away, Malfoy. You're not welcomed here."

Draco looked at her cousin and sneered.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to interrupt when a superior is talking, Black?"

She faked a pensive expression.

"Yep, but I don't see any superior right now, do you?" Draco scowled and was about to say something along the lines of 'how dare you, blood-traitor' when she interrupted him. "Besides, didn't anyone never tell you not to use bleach as a shampoo, Malfoy? It's unhealthy and it could really cause brain damage—though maybe it's already too late for you, pal."

This time neither Ron—or Harry for that matter—couldn't stop snickers from escaping their lips, leaving Charlotte to wear a cheeky grin at her cousin's expense.

He glared at her, fuming in anger, but didn't say anything and turned back to Harry.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Charlotte smiled.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys, Black and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." Both Harry and Ron stood up. Charlotte stayed put, nevertheless she pointed her wand in his direction. In her lap, Chip began hissing at the three unwelcomed boys, ready to pounce them if necessary.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle — Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What _has_ been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to them. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No — I don't believe it — he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"That idiot, I can't believe I'm blood related to that prat." Charlotte whispered furiously.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her.

"Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

"I'll go with you," Ron and Harry looked at her. "You can't expect me to change here—I'm a girl." With that she took her uniform and followed Hermione out of the compartment.

The change rooms were a bit packed, but how everyone was in a bit of hurry as not to end up stuck inside the train, the wait wasn't too long. She was behind Hermione in the line, and when two of the stalls vacated, they entered the room. Charlotte put on her plain black robes—she could only hope it would be the Gryffindor red color adorning it later—and got out, almost bumping in Hermione as she did. They looked at each other for a second before leaving the change room in silence.

After a few minutes, Charlotte could not take the silence anymore.

"You don't have to pretend to be something you aren't just to make people like you,"

Hermione glanced up in surprised—and bit of sadness—before her arrogant façade was back again.

"I don't know what are you talking about," she said. "I haven't been pretending anyt— "

"You may try to convince me, but can you convince yourself?" Charlotte asked softly, then unexpectedly she grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and stared at her with a serious, but kind face. "You're smart, but you don't look like the type to brag about it. If you're doing this for fear of no one accepting because you're a muggleborn, then don't."

She sighed.

"There's nothing wrong with it, alright? Just—just be yourself."

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

She slowly let go of Hermione and turned away, making her way back to the boys.

"Charlotte!"

She turned her head over her shoulder to look at the girl.

"Thank you."

The brow haired girl only smiled gently at her. "No problem. "

oOo

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

"Hey, boys." They turned around to see Charlotte coming their way, and together, the three waited.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Charlotte shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry and Charlie heard a familiar voice:

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Charlotte thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n five to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Charlotte, Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione, after she beckoned them forward—receiving a grateful smile from Hermione and a shy one from Neville.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. All the while, anxiety made its inside her as she gaped at the breathtaking view. How many secrets laid within these castle's walls? She didn't know, but she would make sure to uncover every single one of them.

oOo


	6. The Sorting Hat

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 6 - The Sorting Hat**

.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there, and Charlotte recognized her right away. She had seen Minerva McGonagall only once or twice in her whole life, but certainly the witch could cause quite a first impression. The girl waved—trying to get the woman's attention, getting an almost imperceptible smile in return.

Besides her, Harry and Ron stared at the old lady. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit her whole house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Charlotte could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet — what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. Well, everyone except Charlotte, who was too busy gaping at the entrance Hall with an awed face, to really care about the other kids that looked about too pee their pants any minute.

She wasn't scared. Remus told her everything about Hogwarts, including the sorting. Although, if she was to be honest she would say that she was kind of nervous. What house she would end up in? Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? Merlin forbid Slytherin—she wanted to be in Gryffindor, the house her parents and godparents belonged to.

From her mother's side of the family, there had been lots of Ravenclaw and Gryffindors, only a few Hufflepuffs and a single Slytherin—her great grandfather.

However, from her father's side, Charlotte knew she had an ancient line full of Slytherins—She was a Black, and besides her father, no one else got into Gryffindor. They were all slimy snakes. Pureblood freaks and worse, Full-fledged death-eaters.

She should not judge, she knew, for her dear great-aunt Andromeda was a Slytherin too. But she was different—she had none of the power lust that resided in her sister's eyes, Bellatrix was a mad woman who took pleasure at the sight of pain and torture. Andromeda, although a fierce and hot-tempered woman, was never one to insult or fight someone without a reason. She fought against her family, defying every family tradition—she refused to marry the wizard she was betrothed to, and followed her own heart, marrying the muggleborn Ted Tonks, the only man she ever loved. She was disowned for that, yet her great-aunt never felt so happy, Andy told her once— after her little Nymphadora was born.

Maybe not all Slytherins were bad, still, Charlotte didn't want to be in the same house as the people who destroyed her life and sent her loved ones to death.

She would not be in Slytherin, Charlotte tried to convince herself.

Looking around for something to distract her from her thoughts, the girl focused on her nervous friends—they seemed ready to pass out from a panic attack at any second.

"Stop worrying, you two," she told Harry and Ron with an amused grin as if she knew something they didn't. "It's not like we have to fight a dragon, c'mon."

The boys stared at her.

"What if we _have_ to fight a dragon?!" Ron panicked. "Fred told me we would take a test— "

"After all these years, and you still didn't learn not to trust anything Fred or George says…"

She shook her heard in fake disappointment.

No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous. The green-eyed boy kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

Charlotte, as if sensing his uneasiness, decided to take him out of his misery and gestured for him to come closer. When he got closer enough—their shoulders nearly brushing, she whispered in his ear not wanting to be heard by the other first-years.

"Don't worry, Harry, we just need to put on a hat,"

"A hat? Why would— "the boy was confused.

How could he be sorted by a hat?

"It's not just a hat, Harry. The sorting hat is a magical object that decide which house we belong to." Charlotte explained. "From the things I read and heard from Moony, the hat is able to analyze our personalities and traits and choose the house that suit us best."

Harry stared at her.

"So we just need to put on the hat, that's it?"

She merely hummed in agreement and Harry felt relief washing all over him.

"Thanks, Charlotte."

"You can call me Charlie, Harry," the girl replied. "Not that I don't like my name, I just think it's too girly for me."

"I think it suits you just fine," he did not understand why she would say that, she definitely looked like a girl to him.

"I'll give you a month—you'll know what I mean by then."

She chuckled at his confused face. As if remembering something, Harry glanced behind him to his new ginger friend.

"Wouldn't be better if we told Ron about the Sorting? He doesn't seem fine,"

Harry was right. The young Weasley was grimacing nervously, standing frozen on the same place they left him—his eyes were wide open and fixated on the huge door while he seemed to mumble something to himself. Charlotte had half mind to find a bucket for Ron was slight green with nerves, and the girl thought it was a matter of time before he vomited all over the stone floor.

Either way, she did nothing at all.

"Nah—he will be fine in no time, you'll see." She told Harry, a smirk forming on her lips. "Besides, he would not believe me, that git."

That had happened before tons of times. Like when they were nine and Fred and George tried to convince them there was a huge Flesh-Eating Slug living inside their lake and it would try to kill anyone who dared to come closer. Mr. Scared Pants didn't notice the twins were just trying to scare them and freaked out—he spent the whole week stuck inside home, all the while saying 'I can't go out there, mom! It will kill me!"

Mrs. Weasley was furious, of course, and twins got grounded for a few weeks. Charlotte still couldn't understand how that idiot believed them. Flesh-Eating Slug didn't even live in water, for Merlin's sake!

Harry wasn't so sure that Ron would be alright and opened his mouth to retort, when something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

"What the —?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. Charlotte looked around trying to find the reason to the ruckus. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them.

"About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Charlotte got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Harry behind her and Ron not far from him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Charlotte had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Charlotte looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts— "_

 _"_ _A History._ " Charlotte finished for her, looking at the girl who was now walking beside her. Hermione gave her a surprise stare, before the two shared a glance—one full of promises and a new friendship—then they smiled at each other and intertwined their arms on each other's, walking to the front of the Great Hall with a slight spring in their steps, both more than happy to share the cheerfulness with a new friend.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Charlotte quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

 _If I didn't already know about the sorting, I would have thought we had to try and get a rabbit out of it,_ Charlie thought in mild amusement, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, she stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

 _"_ _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _If you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry and Charlotte. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly while Charlotte chuckled. They shared a secret look when their ginger friend wasn't looking.

"You see, Harry, nothing to be afraid of."

She bumped her shoulder into his, playfully.

Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The girl knew what would happen the minute her name was called, and unfortunately, Charlotte would be one of the firsts to be sorted.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Charlotte saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Black, Charlotte!"

A wave of whispers took over the entire Great Hall. Suddenly, people were quickly speaking to each other, not even bothering to be discreet about it—there was others that were trying to look past their friend's shoulders, trying to take a peek at the girl. It was mostly the older students—the first and second years were looking around almost clueless to why everyone was causing such commotion for a mere girl, and a first-year at that.

"Did she said Black?" a sixth-year asked.

"Sirius Black's daughter?"

"What she's doing here?"

"Why even bother—she'll be a Slytherin, for sure."

The girl was not oblivious to what people were saying about her. Charlotte knew they were thinking she was a devil's spawn and should not even be allowed near the borders of the castle. Even now, she could feel, more than see, all the judging faces, full of hatred, fear and curiosity—the last coming from the Slytherins, and for a second she had the need to cower at all of the attention she was receiving.

However, the last comment was a wake-up call for her.

Who were they to decided where she belonged or not? Or judge her based merely on her heritage? It wasn't fair, and she would not let them get to her.

"SILENCE!" the headmaster yelled stopping the whispering, leaving the room to soak in a tense silence.

Ignoring the pity looks she gained from both Ron and Hermione, she took his hand off her shoulder—he tried to comfort her when he saw the almost broken look on her face—, and walked past the first-years to an awaiting Professor McGonagall, that was wearing a somber expression.

Harry had no idea why everyone was suddenly acting so cold towards Charlotte. Not even a minute before, the sandy-haired boy that was in front of her was talking animatedly with her, thought now, the boy only glared at her, taking a few steps away from the 'Black girl'.

Charlotte pretended not to notice the gazes burning on her back as she climbed the podium, nor the ' _I'll see you in Slytherin, cousin_ ' from Malfoy, and with her head up high, she sat on the wooden stool and let Professor McGonagall lay the hat on her head. The last thing she saw was hundreds of eyes staring unblinkingly at her small form, and two red-haired twins sitting at the Gryffindor' table sending her thumbs up in encouragement, then her vision was engulfed by darkness.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" she heard a voice in her head. "Hmm, Difficult. Very difficult. A loyal friend, always putting people's need above yours—though Hufflepuff would not benefit you, no, no…" the hat seemed to seek something. "Ah—a curious mind like yours would do great in Ravenclaw… It doesn't seem right— "

Charlotte was starting to get really apprehensive. Was it just her or the hat was taking longer than normal? By the others' faces—teachers included—the hat was, indeed, taking his sweet time sorting her. She gripped the edges of the stool, the waiting was driving her nuts.

"Hm, How intriguing… slight cunning but not entirely ambitious—a need for venture and- what's that? The daring hidden within this heart—Yes! So much courage… So where shall I put you? Perhaps Slytherin?"

' _If I get in Slytherin, I'll take the first train back home_ 'The girl thought.

Only when she heard snickers from a few students and a chortle coming behind her from the teacher's table, Charlotte realized she said it out loud, and everyone could hear it. Blushing slightly, she waited for the verdict.

"Better be—GRYFFINDOR!"

At first, no one moved, most staring in disbelief at her, especially the Slytherin' table, there was a few that quite stopped the glaring when they hear her saying she didn't want to be in Slytherin, the others, though, were still unconvinced. She would prove to be the mad and twisted person she really was later on, they thought.

All of a sudden, clapping echoed through the room, Fred and George had stand on their seats, applauding as harder as they could and screaming at the top of their lungs. Charlotte felt Professor McGonagall take the Sorting Hat off her and as her vision came back, she could see both her and the Headmaster smiling proudly at her, his blue eyes twinkling with a secret message she could not comprehend and then he blinked at her, before they, too, started clapping for her.

It did not take long for everyone – almost everyone – to follow suit.

"Yeah!"

"We knew— "

"You got it— "

"On you— "

"Fair Lady!"

She was so glad for the help – though a bit embarrassed – that she could not even find in her to scold them for calling her that again. Charlotte beamed thankfully at them, and turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione who were the first to clap as soon as Professor Dumbledore did, and smiled at them too. With that, she descended the podium and passed a fuming Malfoy on the way, and without fear of being heard by everyone around her she spoke a ' _Good luck in stinking Slytherin, cousin'_ to him and walked between the Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's table, sitting across the twins that wasted no time in congratulating her.

A dark-skinned boy called Lee, that was friends with the twins, patted her on the back and she gave him a smile in return. A number of people came to shake her hand and welcome her into Gryffindor as soon as they realized the girl was not at all a snobbish pureblood princess. She spoke so freely with the Weasleys, never once frowning or recoiling with disgust as a muggleborn asked her something and well, the Weasleys were considered blood-traitor and if they liked her then she shouldn't be so bad, they seemed to ponder.

With her nerves calmed down, she could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest her sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her a smile and the thumbs up. Charlotte grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Professor Dumbledore—his silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts as he had yet to stop smiling at her. Besides Hagrid and Professor Snape—a greasy black-haired man with a permanent scowl on his face—she could not recognize the rest of the people at the table, though she spotted a nervous young man that was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

Strange.

After the introductions and various hand-shaking, she stopped to see the rest of the sorting.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the second new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Charlotte saw the twins catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Unpleasant lot.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Charlotte noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to her in the line and refused to talk to her afterwards, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

Though the boy carried a slight guilty face as he caught her eye, he sat a few rows away from her, and for that she was grateful.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. Charlotte started bouncing on her seat excitedly.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

The bushy-haired girl got off of the stool and made her way to the cheering table, sitting beside her new friend that was clapping as enthusiastically as the others.

"Well done, 'Mione!" Charlotte gave her a side hug and Hermione smiled at the nickname, and together, they focused on the sorting, sometimes whispering some comments to each other.

From where she was, Charlie could see Harry was completely nervous. It was almost comical the way he swapped places with Ron—now he was the one fidgeting in an awkward manner, eyes bulged and the horror stricken face. Poor boy. Merlin knows what was passing in his head at that moment.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

"What a surprise," she heard Fred scoff in sarcasm.

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon" . . ., "Nott" . . ., "Parkinson" . . ., then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . ., then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . ., and then, at last — "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall, just like they did when her name was announced, only now, everyone seemed more fascinated than anything—with the exception of one of the teachers – Snape, Charlie noticed, who was glaring daggers at Harry for no apparent reason.

" _Potter,_ did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

She saw Harry gripping the edges of the stool, in the same way she did earlier, and thought, _C'mon, Harry._

The minutes seemed to drag by, leaving everyone to wait impatiently for the result. The Sorting Hat was talking to Harry in a low tone so no one could listen, however, with the silence she could distinguish the words ' _Not Slytherin_ ' leaving the boy's mouth. They appeared to be arguing about something, Harry shaking his head a few times, before the hat finally began opening his mouth.

Charlotte held her breath – not being the only one to so – and crossed her fingers under the table. There was a second of hesitation, before she heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He looked so relieved that he didn't seem to notice that he was getting the loudest cheer yet, although Charlotte did. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down on the vacated seat next to Charlotte, only to find himself engulfed in a tight hug.

"Congratulations, Harry!" the girl said. "For a moment I though you wouldn't get in Gryffindor, to be honest—why did it took so long? It looked like you were having a discussion up there."

He made sure no one was paying them attention, hoping no one would eavesdrop the conversation.

"The hat said something about me—how I would do great in Slytherin,"

The confusion and slight misery in his words was not lost to her. Charlotte could fathom why. Who would want to be somewhere like Slytherin, besides the pureblood prats that loved Dark Magic and thought themselves superior to everyone else? Harry was different, though, he didn't seem like a bad person at all.

"Maybe you do have one of their traits—the hat told me I was cunning like them, but that doesn't necessarily mean I belong in Slytherin, right?" the boy nodded. "See, that doesn't mean you're like them, Harry."

She was right, the boy reckoned. "Thanks, Charlie."

Tossing his thoughts about his own sorting aside, Harry reminisced the girl's—the way people acted as she was called was still confusing him. Harry wanted to ask her what was that all about, but figured that was not the time to do so, he thought looking at the girl that was watching the first-years.

Finally, there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined them at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry and Charlotte clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Way to go, Ron!" she said when he came within ear range.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Charlotte looked down at her empty gold plate. She had only just realized how hungry she was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered.

"Is he — a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. Charlotte laughed at her friend's face as she helped herself to a bit of everything—living with Remus for so many years made her a glutton just like him. Thanks to genetics, she didn't seem to fatten a single pound.

The dishes in front of them were now piled with food. Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs, you name it, was served all along the extensive Gryffindor table.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you —?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

" _Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like _this,_ " he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. A whispered ' _Wicked_ ' came from Charlotte. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

She looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Charlie was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

' _Serves you right, annoying git_.'

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as be- fore. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding . . .

As Charlotte helped herself to a piece apple pie with a ball of minty ice-cream, the talk turned to their families, much to her chagrin.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "My dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

To her luck, no one bothered to ask her about her family, most of them already aware of her situation and the others were not confident enough to query her about it—she even didn't know if she would be able to respond them, either way.

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I _do_ hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult —"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing —").

Charlotte looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell – she learned his name from Percy -, in his absurd turban, was talking to Professor Snape.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it, Harry?" the girl questioned him in concern, staring at Harry who was clutching his forehead, right where his scar was.

"N-nothing."

Charlotte watched for a few seconds, deciding if he was lying or not, but let the matter slip in the end.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy, gesturing to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

She saw Harry watching Snape for a while, but it seems that Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. Charlotte raised an eyebrow. Was he being serious?

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy, voicing her thoughts.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. The brown-haired noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

" _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

 _Teach us something please,_

 _Whether we be old and bald_

 _Or young with scabby knees,_

 _Our heads could do with filling_

 _With some interesting stuff,_

 _For now, they're bare and full of air,_

 _Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

 _So teach us things worth knowing,_

 _Bring back what we've forgot,_

 _Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

 _And learn until our brains all rot._ "

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

oOo

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. While everyone was almost sleepwalking – including Ron and Harry, Charlotte was bouncing all the way up, chattering with an equally cheery Hermione, the lack of sleep doing nothing to placate the sudden excitement she had to see the Gryffindor Common Room for the first time.

The people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, and Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. One of the portraits caught her attention. A boy, looking no older than herself, wearing a knight armor, was smiling down at her, waving at her with his free hand while the other was holding a sword that was propped on the grass.

"I think you have an admirer, Charlie."

"Ha ha. Very funny, Ron." She faked a glare at him, before turning to do the same to a snickering Harry and Hermione. "Oh, shut it, you two."

Their little banter caught the attention of two dare-devils, who wasted no time in appearing at her sides.

"What is this we heard about an admirer, Fair Lady?" Fred put his left arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah—I thought we were together! How could you cheat on our awesome selves, Fair Lady?" George, too, put his right arm around her, leaving her to be sandwiched between the twins as they climbed the stairs.

"Should tell Remus, we should— "

"No one is allowed to break us apart!"

"We're meant to be— "

"Destined to be together— "

"You two genius know that I cannot possibly be with both of you, right?" Charlotte joked, playing along. "Don't know if Moony would like that much,"

Fred and George looked at each other as if finally discovering some sort of deathly secret.

"Merlin's Pants, George! She's right!"

"That she is, Fred,"

"So what should— "

"We do?"

By now, several students were looking their way in amusement, some even muffling their laughs in their hands, only a few shook their heads in annoyance, too used to the twins' dramatics to even care—one of them was their own older brother, who stopped midway to scold them for their childish acts. He was ignored, of course.

There was a second of silence, then the red-haired thirteen-year-old boys launched themselves on each other, playfully punching and pinching the other, their hairs disheveled as they yelled ' _She's mine'_ for everyone to listen.

"Are they always like this?"

She heard Harry ask her, a hint of humor and bewilderment in his tone.

"Yep. They are on a good day, trust me," She told him. "Erm, just so you know—don't accept anything they give you, Harry, unless you like blue for a hair color. I meant it."

They did that once to her, and Charlotte thought it was only fair to alert poor Harry, just to make sure he wouldn't fall into one of the twins' pranks. He nodded.

Charlie took a look at the two idiots rolling around on the floor and disregarded them, choosing to follow Percy to the dorms—sleep finally catching up on her.

"Oy, you'll end up sleeping there if you don't hurry up!" She called over her shoulder, not bothering to look behind her—thought she did hear their scurrying steps as they fell into step with her, their arms finding their way back around her shoulders.

They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Charlie was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves — show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. Charlotte stayed for a moment while Hermione dashed up the stairs. The twins, too, were gone after ruffling her hair, following their friend Lee to their room.

"See ya tomorrow, boys." Charlotte got off of the comfy couch where they were talking. "Goodnight, Harry. 'night, Ron."

She hugged both of them.

"Goodnight, Charlie" Harry bid her as she let go of him to hug the ginger boy.

"Good night."

Then she all but bolted upstairs.

oOo

At the top of a spiral staircase, Charlotte finally found her room. A wooden door with a silver sign that read:

 _First-Years_

 _Charlotte Black_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _Lavender Brown_

 _Parvati Patil_

Apparently she would have roommates. At least she had Hermione—she had yet to meet the other two girls, and only hoped they would be alright.

When she stumbled into the room, her mouth fell open at the sight.

Remus constantly described the boys' room to her, however, this was nothing like he described. It was better.

There were obviously four four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. The walls were a glittering golden color—the moonlight entered the room making it spark like a thousand stars. A fireplace was right at the center of the room, letting the room in an inviting warmth. There was a door at the left that she figured was the bathroom.

Charlotte was pleased to notice that her stuff was at the bed closest to the window – including a sleeping Chip, caramel fur spilled across her pillow -, with an amazing view for the Black Lake, and was also besides Hermione's bed.

Speaking of, her bushy haired friend was getting ready to bed, her uniform separated from the other clothes, ironed and tidy, for their classes on the next day—she was currently reading a book, curtains halfway drawn as if she did not want to be disturbed, so Charlotte turned to her other roommates.

The two girls where gossiping to each other, every now and then stealing glances at her direction. It didn't take much for her to know what were they talking about. In that moment, Charlotte knew that she wouldn't exactly be on a friendly basis with them, though either way, she tried to introduce herself in hopes to make, at least, an acquaintance.

"Hey—I'm Charlotte," she started politely, extending her hand towards them.

She was promptly ignored, although she saw one of the girls, a pretty olive-skinned Indian girl with charcoal eyes, offering her smile, albeit a small one. Her blond companion was still scowling at Charlotte, her hazelnut eyes narrowing her way in barely suppressed anger.

"Parvati Patil," the Indian girl cut the silence introducing herself. "This is Lavender Brown—nice to meet— "

"You don't belong here!"

The Lavender girl exploded, interrupting Parvati, pointing her finger in Charlotte's face.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me—You don't belong here!" she repeated and her face turned red. "What gave you the right to come to Hogwarts, you freak! Have you not ruined enough lives already?"

"Excuse me? I haven't done anything—are you mad?"

Anger was starting to rise up within her, her blood boiling at the accusation. Charlotte did not even notice Hermione rolling out of her bed and walking closer to her, standing only one step behind her—nor she noticed the way Parvati was looking frantically between the two.

"You may not have done anything yet, but you will! You're a deranged witch just like the rest of your family, Black! And you have no right to barge in— "

"It's _you_ who have no right to judge me or talk about my family like that! I was just trying to be polite, when you started screaming at me—if anything, _you_ are the deranged one here!"

"How dare you— "

"Please, stop it!"

Hermione's voice was ignored on her mind, Charlotte being too furious too even care.

"What's with people judging everyone based on heritage? It's ridiculous!" she fumed and paced back and forth before glaring firmly in Lavender's eyes. "If you're so keen about it then let me try it too, because if you are anything to go by, then your family must be a really pleasant lot."

She was yelling now, sarcasm dripping from her last words.

"Shut up, Black!" Lavender was fuming. If Charlotte thought that Ron went a tomato red when angry, then she should have seen Lavender first. The blond girl went to grab her wand – thought Charlotte knew she had no idea of how to do a spell yet –, and pointed threateningly at Charlotte who only stared back at her, unafraid.

"Not nice when it affects you, right, Lavender? You're such hypocrite—I may be a Black, but I did never hurt anyone!"

"It is only a matter of time— "

"Stop it!"

Their glaring match was broken and the two girls stared at Hermione. Suddenly, Charlotte felt bad for being the reason—well, sort of—to her frustration. The muggleborn grabbed her hand, that she just realized was formed into a fist, and dragged her to Charlotte's bed, away from Lavender.

"If you insult her again, I'll call Professor McGonagall, Lavender—just leave her alone."

"Me? She's the one to blame here,"

"Don't try to act innocent, Lavender. You're the one who started this."

With that, she sat beside Charlotte and ignored her other roommates.

"Whatever." Lavender stalked off to her bed and closed her curtains shut.

No matter how hard she tried, it seemed impossible for her to run away from her past. She was so excited for being in Hogwarts, that she forgot not everyone would be as accepting as Harry and Hermione.

"I'm sorry about her…"

Two heads glanced up at the sound of Parvati's voice.

"She didn't mean that, you know—she was just angry…" she tried to explain.

Charlotte gave her a look.

"Both of us know she meant that, Parvati. But it's okay…the world is filled with people like her, biased people who always are quick to judge someone based on nothing but their own beliefs—I'm used to it." She paused. "And I don't mean to be rude, thought I really don't believe you were completely honest when you said you're sorry,"

"Charlotte— "she didn't spare a single glance at Hermione, nevertheless, she laid her palm against Hermione's, seeking comfort.

"Maybe you're not as…fierce as Lavender, however, you do agree with her—don't you?"

She did not need a response—Parvati guilty face said loads. She indeed had agreed with her friend, in most part anyways, and Charlotte didn't blame her for that. Still, she didn't want to have someone like that around her.

"I'm not angry at you—but I don't want to be your friend either… Friendship requires trust—loyalty" she squeezed Hermione's hand." and I don't think I would have that with you. I'm sorry."

Everything was quiet for a minute, before the Indian girl nodded and copied Lavender, going to her own bed.

Tears almost came to her eyes, nearly falling down, but she held them. Only a lonely tear escaped, trickling down her cheek when she whipped it quickly. Although it was too late for Hermione had seen it.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte… I-I didn't know people treated you like that."

"Thanks, 'Mione, but I'm alright—like I said, I'm used to it."

Her bushy-haired friend had no answer to that, so she gave Charlotte a fleeting hug and a sad smile before going to sleep.

The dorm was just about silent, there was no noise other than the soft snores coming from the other three girls in the room and the gentle hum of the wind. An hour had passed since the others fell asleep, and yet Charlotte could not close her eyes. She rolled in the bedsheets for minutes, much to her cat's displeasure, until she finally gave up, got out of the bed and searched for a blank piece of parchment. Her godfather was the only one who could make her feel better, but he wasn't there with, so she might as well write him.

She got her quill out and began pouring her feelings in the paper.

 _Dear Moony,_

 _Things at Hogwarts are going well,_ _sort of._ _I encountered Hagrid when I got off the train—he's still as nice as I remember him. The castle is amazing and as breathtaking as you told me it was. The great Hall is just incredible and the food—well, maybe I'll will come back home as a whale, who knows. Everything is just so yummy._

 _You wouldn't believe in who I met at the train, Moony._

 _Harry Potter._

 _Uncle James' son, the very same. He really looks like Prongs, though he has green eyes just like aunt Lily. We shared a compartment with Ron, and he is really nice, albeit a little shy at the beginning—I feel we will be great friends._

 _I made a new friend here—her name is Hermione Granger and she's a muggleborn. She can be a bit bossy but I know she has her heart in the right place._

 _Ah—I got in Gryffindor! So happy!_

 _I know you would say 'no surprises here' but I was a bit scared of being sorted into Slytherin. That wouldn't be nice. (Don't let Andy read that, she would kill me)_

 _As much as would like to tell you that everything went smoothly here, that would not be an honest thing to say. I miss you already, Moony. Not even a day has passed and I already miss your company._

 _A lot of people were staring at me as I was sorted—they weren't saying nice things, either. I knew it would be bad, though I didn't know it would be this bad._

 _And to worsen, I got into a fight with one of my roommates barely an hour ago. Her name is Lavender Brown. It wasn't exactly my fault as I was just trying to be nice and she just started saying mean things to me—although I grudgingly admit that maybe I could have stop myself from insulting her back._

 _I know, I know._

 _I should know better than let my temper get the best of me, but no one says bad things about my family, so she deserved._

 _At least I'm glad I have Hermione in the room, or else I fear I would have pushed said someone down the stairs._

 _Well—I think that's all. I didn't really want to bother you with all of this, but we promised to never keep secrets from each other, so… I'll try to go and sleep now. Everyone is fast asleep but I had to write to you._

 _I love you, Moony—I hope everything is alright with you. (Don't forget your potion) Send my love to Great-Aunt Andy, Dora and Ted._

 _I'll be waiting for your reply._

 _._

 _Love,_

 _Charlotte._

She folded the paper and put it on her bedside table, hoping to remember to give the letter for Maurice to deliver before classes started. Charlotte laid down on her bed, her eyes, at last, feeling too heavy to be kept open. She welcomed sleep, wishing somehow that the next day would be better.

oOo


	7. The Potions Master

**Hey guys! I'm back with a new chapter. Thank you for the reviews, I'm really happy you like it.** **Well, no more stalling. On with the chapter! ;)**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 7 - The Potions Master**

.

"Charlotte,"

Said girl woke up to someone shaking her shoulders. Opening her eyelids, a bushy hair came to her sight and she slowly sat on her bed. Charlie blinked tiredly. She went to sleep way past midnight and was feeling as if she would fall at any instant

"What is it, 'Mione?"

The other girl opened the curtains around her bed and took the covers off the brown-haired girl who started to shake as the cold morning air hit her bare arms and legs. Hermione didn't seem to hear her complain as she did so, and instead, she grabbed Charlie hand and all but tried to dragged her to the bathroom.

"Hermione—what the— "

"Breakfast starts in thirty minutes. I'll wait here while you change, so do not delay," she told her in a slight bossy tone. "What are you waiting for?"

When Hermione saw her standing there merely staring at her with a strange face, she pushed Charlie into the bathroom and closed the door behind her as she left.

"I'll leave you there if you don't hurry up!" Charlotte could hear her saying from the other side of the door.

She sighed but did as Hermione asked—more like demanded—and discarded her clothes as she made her way to one of the showers.

In her hurry on the last night, Charlotte did not remember to check the other rooms. For founders that did not even want a single boy to step within a foot of distance from the girls' dormitory – reason why they jinxed the stairs to turn into a slide if any boy tried to do it -, they really made an effort to make sure they were comfortable and pampered with, and decorate their space as much as they could.

Even the bathroom was amazing.

A pearl-colored marble covered the floor and the bottom of the walls, while the upper half was embellished by something she identified as being wood carvings. Most of them, she noticed, were the Gryffindor's emblem in a small size and the rest of the engravings consisted on a few candles that seemed to move as she gaped at it.

There was a big mirror with a rusty golden frame and a dark mahogany cabinet with four divisions—obviously for her and her roommates' use. Never mind the toilet or the shower – though Charlotte noticed there was two of them-, she was gaping at a tempting ebony bathtub. All she wanted at that moment was to spend only a minute soaking in a hot bath, but she was compelled to change course -reluctantly- to the shower as she heard the muffled voice of Hermione "Only twenty-four minutes left!"

Charlie cursed to herself as she hit her big toe at the corner of the bathtub in her haste and limped her way to the shower tub.

Not even five minutes after she was all washed up and she dressed herself in her bathrobe – strangely, all her hygiene products were brought and carefully arranged in a separated shelf of her own. From her liquid soap and to even her peach scented shampoo. -, and Charlotte went to the sink, washed her teeth with spearmint toothpaste, then made for the door, not even bothering to comb her dark locks or put on any makeup.

That was something Remus always loved about her.

Even though she looked like her parents in appearance and personality – she especially resembled her father in both aspects-, she was never one to care much about her appearance, much different from her vain father, who in his years at Hogwarts could not leave his dormitory if a single hair was out of place. Her mother was not so extreme, but she, too, liked to dress up.

She, on the other hand, absolutely loathed dresses, makeup or heels. Honestly, she hated everything remotely girly. Charlotte would choose sneakers, sweatpants and a jumper over those things any day.

The last time she wore a dress was only on Andromeda's request.

Her Great-Aunt wanted to doll her up a little and bought her a simply fabulous light blue dress – in her opinion, though Charlotte still cannot help but cringe everything she would remember it -, when she was nine years old. Unfortunately, Dora asked her for a quick game of Quidditch, and Charlotte, of course, agreed almost instantly.

The thing is—dresses and brooms don't match. Not at all.

Not even ten minutes into the game, Charlotte tried to swerve the broom a little too much, because the stupid dress was making her lose control on her Nimbus.

As she took a sharp turn to the left, the dress weighted too much on one side, making her almost slip off her broom, but she desperately clung onto the Nimbus and the end of her dress got caught in one of the pedals. To her luck, she was near the ground when the broom lost control and she escaped with nothing but a broken wrist.

Though, maybe she was not that lucky, for her Nimbus spiraled across the ground and hit the Maple tree with such strength, that it split it in half. Charlotte didn't know who was more upset by the end of the day. Andy, Remus or Charlie herself.

And Remus promised to buy her a new one when she started off at Hogwarts, so she spent two years with no Quidditch. Well—make it three, because they had no time at Diagon Alley to buy her a new one. Then again, that was her fault, she admitted. Remus wanted to go earlier but she postponed to the very last day.

She still reminisced the sickening _snap_ sound the broomstick made. Why did she have to play while wearing that deathly attire?

No need to say that since that eventful day she harbored a hatred towards anything that resembled a dress. And really—who could blame her for it?

Charlotte turned the doorknob and stumbled back into the dorm, a misty vapor following her through the door from her hot shower. Hermione was nowhere to be seen, but she could see the other girls still fast asleep in their own beds and didn't seem to wake up any time soon.

Not that she was complaining.

The last thing she wanted was another fight with Ms. 'I-hate-you-even-though-I-don't-know-you-at-all' Brown.

Hearing a hooting sound, she faced the window and realized that Maurice was perched at the windowsill, looking like she was back from an outing—the owlery, most likely.

"Mau—thanks Merlin you're here. Didn't fancy a walk to the owlery right now, to be honest," She opened her bedside table's drawer and collected the letter she wrote last night. "Here—deliver it to Remus -you remember him-, would you?"

Her owl chirped in protest.

"I know it's the first day, but I'm not used to be away from him," Maurice blinked at her, turning his head to the side. "-and now I'm talking to an owl—Merlin… maybe I lost my marbles- "

"What are you doing?"

Hermione entered the room, some clothing on her hand, and was staring at her in confusion.

"Never mind," Charlie flushed a bit but recovered quickly, spun around and extended the letter to Maurice once more, giving her owl a pleading stare. In return, the owl glared at her as if waiting for something, and it took a few seconds for her to understand, murmuring a soft _Oh, sorry,_ before tearing a piece of a half-eaten cereal bar that was in her bag—it must have gotten there sometime in the train ride. "Thanks, Mau."

He merely chirped back at her and soared across the sky.

"Who did you write to?" Hermione questioned but a bashful smile came over her lips. "Sorry for being so nosy, it's none of my business, anyway…"

That was a nice change from the bossy, stuck-up girl she met at the train—yet, Charlotte did not want her to feel as if she was intruding with her life.

"You're not being nosy, 'Mione, don't worry—besides, we're friends now so you don't need to be scared of asking me something, alright?" She put a hand on the girl's shoulder and smiled gently at her.

"I never had a friend, you know," Hermione confessed in a low tone and Charlie almost didn't hear her. Almost. "No one wants to be friends with a know-it-all like me."

An uncomfortable silence took over the room, but Charlotte broke it.

"Then they're all idiots for losing the chance to hang around with someone as great as you, and hey—I'm not your friend. I'm your _best_ friend, from now on—I promise."

She stretched her hand, waiting for Hermione to take it and seal the promise, however a tight embrace took her by surprise, her sniffling friend clutching desperately at her, when she let go, smiling amidst the tears that was falling down her cheeks.

" _Thank you_."

They smiled at each other, though Charlie, not being really good at dealing with such emotional situations, tried to change topic.

"So…I wrote to Moony—I mean, Remus, last night. He always knows the right thing to say to make me feel better—I miss him already." She heaved a sigh. "You two would definitely get on very well with each other—maybe I can introduce you to him next year."

"That would be great— "a gasp tore from her throat as she looked at her table clock. "It's nearly seven thirty; hurry up—you need to change."

Charlotte shot a look at Hermione, only now recalling something.

"I think it's best that you go without me, I still have to iron my uniform— "

"No need to,"

The muggleborn girl brought the clothing that was clasped in her hands to her line of sight. It seemed like Charlotte's uniform—Hermione was already wearing hers.

"Hope you don't mind; thought I took the liberty to arrange your uniform for you—I woke up early." She replied just as Charlotte was about to ask _When,_ a look of pure amazement in her features.

"'Mione?" She mumbled.

"What?"

"You're amazing, that you are."

Charlotte grinned in thanks and seized the uniform from Hermione's hands, walked to her trunk – she still had to remember to organize everything in the wardrobe when she was back from the classes-, searched for some undergarments and removed her bathrobe, not taking long to dress up in her new Gryffindor uniform.

Returning to her bed, Charlotte retrieved her wand and softly petted the head of a snoozing Chip, before she made for the door.

"Wait, Charlie! Aren't you combing your hair?"

"No," she replied, though it seemed like a question.

Hermione tutted.

"You cannot go out like this," she shook her head. "If you don't comb your hair it'll end up in a mess of knots—I would know."

"But I don't want to- "

"Sit."

"We don't have enough time— "she tried to reason with her.

" _Sit._ "

Charlotte whined but did as the girl said. All the same, she could not comprehend the purpose for that. She thought her hair was alright, she decided staring at her figure in the mirror from the comfy chair where Hermione sat her, as the other girl rummaged her own trunk for something.

After four agonizing minutes of hair pulling, both of them were finally ready for breakfast, so they went downstairs to the Common Room and waited for the boys to show up. When it was clear that they wouldn't be down for a while, they decided to meet Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, and departed to the Great Hall.

oOo

It was nearly eight when the boys decided to grace them with their presence. Harry and Ron came running through the Gryffindor table as Charlotte and Hermione were checking their schedules - gave to them by Professor McGonagall-, both of them panting and with their hairs tousled, as if they just got out of bed—what was probably true.

Harry took a sit beside Charlotte, while Ron sat across from the three, not wasting a single second before stuffing his mouth with food. Hermione handed them their own timetables and stayed quiet for the rest of the meal. Just because she was friends with Charlotte, it did not mean she was friends with those two.

While Charlotte was spreading jam on her toast, Harry was telling her about a strange dream he had on the last night. He said that on the dream he was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it — then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of green light and that was when Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

It was indeed a strange dream. She told Harry not to worry though, saying that maybe his nerves about his first day were getting to him, not to mention the fact that her cousin and Professor Snape seemed to cause that effect on people.

The boy nodded in response, she should be right, anyways. However, Charlotte could not help but feeling that bit of doubt at the pit of her stomach. Maybe she should write Remus about it? No. She would be betraying Harry's trust, she decided and tried to forget about the matter.

There was less than half an hour left to nine—the classes would start soon. Hermione stood up, gathering her belongings with her left hand clutching her timetable, and she whipped around, saying she was leaving already—she did not want to be late on her first day at Hogwarts, after all. She summoned Charlie to come along with her, thought the brown-haired girl denied " _knowing Ron, they would get lost for the day and miss all the classes_ " she said, gaining a " _Hey!_ " from an affronted ginger.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and proceeded her way out of the Great Hall, her bushy hair bouncing behind her as she walked away, leaving the other three to themselves.

"Why do you still speak with her? She's so annoying—ouch!"

A kick in his leg made him stop and yelp in pain.

"What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Do not talk about Hermione like that, Ronald" Charlotte reprimanded him using his full name, not caring about the glare she was getting. "She not annoying—actually, she's really nice, if you must know."

"Nice? Do you not remember her at the train?" He ranted. "Such a know-it-all… Ouch!"

"Sorry, Ron—my foot slipped."

She apologized, but the both Harry and Ron could see the sarcastic – and satisfied- grin she was wearing.

oOo

Maybe coming with the boys was not such a great idea after all. Ron spent the majority of their time left devouring everything he could get his hands on and made the others two lose track of time as they waited for their friend to finish eating. Although she could eat as much as Ron – sometimes even more – the nerves made her hunger dissipate, only a cup of pumpkin juice and toast to keep her for the day. Harry was just as anxious as she was, and barely touched anything other than an appetizing looking slice of blueberry pie.

Now they were trying to find a way to their first class—whispers followed them as they walked.

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Close to the Black girl.""

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at Harry, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Charlotte thought it was ridiculous. Everyone was treating him like an attraction at the zoo—he was a boy, not something to be ogled at.

Part of her irritation was out of empathy for the boy walking by her side, and the other part was for herself, that was obliged to listen, not only the murmuring about Harry, but the curious people that were wondering why a devil spawn like her was walking alongside with the boy-who-lived, and every assumption was more stupid than the other.

They would not accept her that easily, it seemed, if they would ever do one day. Charlotte was not concerned about that—she had other thing to be worried about, like finding her way through the castle.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Charlotte was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves – in the boys' opinion, for Charlie thought the Poltergeist was terrific and hilarious -, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry, Charlotte and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic than just waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. At one point, Charlotte fell into slumber with her hand supporting her head—that is, until Hermione, who was sitting on her left, eagerly scribbling down notes on her parchment, pinched her side telling her to pay attention.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, his eyes bulged almost comically at her last name, only giving her a brief, frightened glance, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different—she certainly wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Charlotte had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave them a rare smile—Charlotte swore that Professor McGonagall stared at her more than required, with a nostalgic look on her face.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke, something that disappointed Charlotte—she was looking up for this class. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry admitted to her he was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Charlotte, Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once—thanks to Hermione who told her the way beforehand, but she didn't tell the boys that.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked them as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Charlotte informed him, before taking a bite of her apple. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we'll be able to see if it's true. Though it most probably is."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

"That's likely." The girl scoffed.

Just then, the mail arrived. They had gotten used to this by now, but it had given Harry a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Charlotte was impatiently waiting for Remus' reply. Maurice was back already, maybe he had delivered the letter, but did not stay long enough to allow her godfather to send his. At least he had the Tonks' family owl, in case he needed.

Hedwig, too, hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. Charlotte read it over his shoulder. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I know you get Friday afternoons off so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?_

 _I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

 _Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Charlie's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again. As his owl took flight, Charlotte's own owl was seen coming in their direction, something in his beak.

"Finally!"

The people closest to her withdrew, including Harry and a reading Hermione, as the girl eagerly swatted her arms around trying to get her hands on the letter. Maurice landed in front of her plate and started nibbling on a piece of toast as soon as Charlotte all but snatched the letter, tearing the lid open and reading its contents.

 _Dear Charlie,_

 _I'm glad you like it there, I still miss my years at Hogwarts and, hopefully, you will come to treasure your time there as I did mine (Say hi to Hagrid on my behalf). I can assure you that not only the outsides or the Great Hall are remarkable, though I won't tell you anymore about it because I want you to discover for yourself._

 _You seem to know me better than anyone else. Yes. No surprise that you got sorted in Gryffindor. You're too brave for your own good, little firebird. Nevertheless, Andromeda was slightly disappointed you got in Gryffindor—she was hoping for a bit of backup. Slytherin pride, or something like that._

 _I pondered if it would take too long for you to meet Harry. Sorry for not telling you sooner, but I knew he would be going to Hogwarts with you, I just didn't know how you would react. However, I'm happy you are such good friends with him and the Hermione you told me. By the way, don't get them into trouble. I know you. No excursions to the Black Lake, the Dark Forest or anywhere potentially dangerous—wouldn't want to receive one Holler from Andromeda, would you?_

 _About the people—try not to listen, dear. Remember: Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. Just stick with your friends and ignore the bad remarks. They don't know you and have no right in trying to define you to something you're not. But trust me, all will get better with time—don't worry._

 _I'm not angry with you for fighting with the Lavender girl, but I'm not exactly happy either. Yes, you should not let your temper control you, though I cannot blame for being just like your parents in this aspect. If someone insults you again, do not listen. You know who you are—they cannot change the amazing girl you are._

 _I hope you have fun there – don't forget your studies, though. Write me as much as you want—you could never be a bother to me, dear. Everything is going just fine here and I'm taking the potion, so don't worry about me. Everyone is missing you already, especially me._

 _Do not forget what I told you and take care of yourself._

 _I love you, little firebird._

 _Love,_

 _Moony._

Charlotte finished reading and clutched the letter close to her chest, a sweet and -surprisingly- peaceful smile on her lips. For the first time she got into the castle, she forgot about the problems, the whispers and the glares. Her heart was feeling lighter. Remus really knew how to make her feel better.

oOo

It was lucky that they had tea with Hagrid to look forward to – Harry invited them to tag along, including Hermione, but the bushy-haired girl refused-, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to both Charlotte and Harry so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, they had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, they knew they'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry — he _hated_ him. Although it seemed like he had an even deep loathing towards Charlotte, if his dirty look was anything to go by. In her insight, Snape was trying to light her ablaze, until she was nothing more than a pile of ashes.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at two particular names.

"Charlotte Black,"

He drawled, his face contorting in disgust at the name, and regarded the girl with a sneer as her took in her features.

"Let's only hope that you don't turn out like your father—I'm not certain if Gryffindor can endure having another…deserter within the house." There were snickers coming from the Slytherins, Charlotte observed, especially from her blond cousin.

Everyone else held their breath, yet a smug-looking Lavender was staring at her with a cynical sneer. The room fell silent, and most wondered what she would do. They expect her to cower at the intimidating presence of Professor Snape, who apparently did not presume she would reply to his accusation, and went to proceed the roll call when her low, but cold voice reached his ears and echoed around the room.

"Hilarious—coming from someone in a house full of quislings," she glared at him dead in the eye, not backing down when turned on her, disbelief giving place to hatred. "I'd rather be a Gryffindor deserter, as you called me, than a daft snake."

She said, making the Slytherins stop laughing and glower at her in outrage.

All advices Remus gave her were throw out into the wind—That man brought out the worst in her. Now she understood what her godfather meant when he told her that her father and Snape didn't see eye to eye.

That was an understatement. The greasy git was unbearable—and she spent less than five minutes in his company.

Snape bristled, pursing his lips and, deceptively, doing a countdown in his head, as if he was holding himself from cursing her to death.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Black," he recovered his posture and sneered. "Be glad I'm not sending you to the Headmaster—you would be taking the first train back to that _godfather_ of yours… how he would be disappointed if you were expelled on your fist week,"

It was obvious the way he disregarded Remus' place in her life with the way he almost scoffed at the word—he clearly wanted to use another term, but controlled himself. Snape was one of the few people who knew about Remus' condition.

"I better not hear a single peep coming from you…or else, I may just—change my mind."

Was it possible to murder someone by glaring at them? Charlotte didn't know, but she was trying to find out.

She sent him a dirty look, yet did not dare to respond. Beside her, her friends were staring at her with a mixture of feelings. Hermione was looking down at their table, fiddling with her fingers, and for a moment she glanced up and shot Charlotte a look of disapproval.

On the other hand, the boys had no such negative reaction towards her—Ron turned slight pink and stared at her in astonishment, his mouth wide open, sending her a thumbs up when Snape wasn't looking. Harry was torn between looking awed and confused. He realized the several times that Charlotte's father was mentioned, ever so suddenly, in a conversation—he had to ask her about it sometime. And then, Harry envied her. He wanted to have the same courage to stand up for himself, though with a little less of—fierceness.

Professor Snape carried on the roll call as if nothing ever happened, taking his time to assimilate the name to a face, lingering on a few ones, including his own godson who was eager to respond. Everything returned to its normal state - Charlie still fuming every now and then-, that is, until he came to Harry's name.

"Ah, _yes,_ " he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new — _celebrity._ "

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands, only stopping when Charlotte spun their way, glaring. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Charlotte was wearing an unimpressed look.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was, then at Charlotte who seemed to know the answer. Regrettably, she could not help him without triggering another match with the devil himself, so she sent an apologetic glance at him. Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't seem to have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He was trying not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

' _That bastard'_ Charlotte closed her hands into fists, willing herself not to jump over her table and strangle him.

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, almost hitting Charlotte in the process, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased. Charlotte snorted into her hand, and did not bothered to be subtle about it.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione and faced the girl sitting on the other side. "So you think that was fun, Black? Then maybe you could answer for your little _friend—_ Or I should just pick someone who will know the— "

She interrupted him.

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite," She said all in a breath, looking at him with a smug smile. "— _Professor_."

The surprise was barely visible on his face, but it was there. Only for a second, though, before his cold demeanor was back once more.

"Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter—from you too, Black."

Charlotte was about to suggest something to Snape that would, for sure, make her lose more than just a few points, but a kick under the table made her turn, meeting Hermione's eyes. The girl was slowly shaking her head, begging imploringly with her eyes that Charlie kept quiet.

She huffed angrily but didn't say anything, returning to her notes.

 _'_ _Stupid, greasy git.'_

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy – his godson-, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he spotted Charlotte working alongside Hermione, noting the two were considerably distant from the scene, and rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You — Potter — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair!

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron as Hermione did the same with Charlotte.

"Don't push it," he muttered to them, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry and Charlotte were walking crestfallen. They – though Charlotte took blame on this one- lost so many points for Gryffindor in their very first week — _why_ did Snape hate them so much?

"Cheer up, you two" said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. I think you broke their record, Charlie—fifteen points with five minutes of the lesson… and when you talked back to Snape—that was brilliant!" The ginger boy got a grin out of the girl at that. "Hey—Can we meet Hagrid now?"

oOo

Charlotte invited Hermione again, but her response was the same, so at five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, " _Back_ , Fang — _back._ "

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. " _Back,_ Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. "How are yeh doin', Charlotte."

"Great, Hagrid. Thank you." She smiled at the big man.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles.

"I spent half my life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Charlotte, Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Charlie's knee and drooled all over her robes. That was both disgusting and -strangely- cute.

Charlotte, Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git''

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson, Charlotte sometimes adding her own version. Hagrid, like Ron, told them not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really _hate_ me."

"Us, Harry. If you didn't notice, he seems to hate me way more than he does you."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet they couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet their eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot — great with animals."

Charlotte wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy.

"What's that, Harry?" he came closer to her so that the two could read.

It was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_ :

 **GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

 _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

 _Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

 _"_ _But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry remembered Ron and Charlotte telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but they hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Charlotte and Harry read the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day._ Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As they walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Charlotte thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given her as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell them?

oOo


	8. The Midnight Duel

**I'm really, really sorry for not updating sooner. I was supposed to post a new chapter on thursday, but I wasn't feeling very well. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Comment if you want :)**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 8 - The Midnight Duel**

.

In all of her years Charlotte had never met someone as aggravating as Draco Malfoy. Ever since they got in Hogwarts her cousin seemed to make a mission out of turning their lives into a living hell.

He would throw insults every time they met at the hallways, every so often making a joke at her godfather's expense or a mean comment about her imprisoned father, and each time Harry and Ron had to hold her back from attacking the haughty boy – once going as far as having Neville and Dean helping them to drag the fuming girl away. Looks were deceiving. For a girl her age, she could be really strong.

Regrettably, Charlotte wasn't the only one at the end of Malfoy's taunting.

Although the ' _M_ ' word wasn't mentioned, the girl noticed the scornful and disgusted looks directed to her muggleborn friend. Hermione never said anything, but Charlotte knew that it was taking a tool on her, the hurt look on her face said loads. So she took it upon herself to stay next to the bushy-haired girl as much as she could, inviting her to tag along at any opportunity – much to Ron's dismay -, hoping to protect her from people like her cousin.

With the boys were no different, though they, like her, tended to be annoyed rather than hurt. Harry tried to ignore him the most, almost on every occasion turning his back on the blond just as he started talking about his parents or even Hagrid. Still, Ron appeared to have inherited the famous Weasleys' temper. Much like his mother, he had a tendency to yell each time someone made him mad, and his face flushed in anger, making it match his hair color.

Thanks Merlin, she thought, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"Knowing him as I do, it probably is."

Charlotte cut in, throwing herself at the couch in common room, getting a few disgruntled looks from some students that were sitting nearby.

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the House Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

One of a few who didn't seem to boost about it was Charlotte herself. When asked, she told them she could handle a broomstick fairly well, though she knew she was just being modest. Having learned how to fly from a young age, the girl could admit she was more than just decent at Quidditch. All those years playing as a chaser with Dora really paid off. Charlie was a natural at it, Remus used to tell her, just like her own father was, only he was a beater.

So, while most of the first-year students were fretting over their lesson, she was staring sideway at the fireplace, legs swinging on the arm of the couch, blowing the hair away from her eyes, not felling an ounce of nervousness. If anything, she was boiling with excitement.

However, not everyone was as calm as she was.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Charlotte felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Another letter came from Remus. He wrote that everything was alright and he was currently looking for a job, so he wasn't replying as much these days. Even if they – Charlotte, actually – had a large amount of money, her godfather refused to touch a single coin of hers, no matter how many times she would tell him that she did not care at the least.

Remus could not admit, but he had a streak of pride within him. Asking for help or letting anyone solve one of his problems was something he didn't like. Charlotte knew he was glad for all the support he had all those years from his friends and even from Dumbledore - who knew about his werewolf condition but never mistreated him in any way in his schooling years -, but Remus didn't like feeling coddled all the time. He wanted to do something for himself, so she was crossing her fingers, wishing that he would find a job soon.

On a brighter note, the Tonks sent her a box full of fudge balls filled with honey syrup – one of her favorite sweets she used to eat every time when she was younger. Attached to it, three short notes from each of them.

 _Don't forget to owl us. We miss you already, sweetheart._

 _-Andy._

 _XXX_

 _Try not to devour it within a minute, pipsqueak. Take care._

 _-Ted._

 _XXX_

 _Hey, my little daredevil! Mom and dad has been missing you like crazy here – not that I don't miss you too, of course. Playing Quidditch is so boring without my Number 1 chaser. Still thinking of joining the Aurors (Don't tell mom!) I was supposed to write this on my last letter, but I forgot... oh well._

 _Don't forget to send my_ _honest_ _best wishes to dear Professor Snape – or feel free to turn his classroom into murky pond, whatever. (I did it once with Filch's office! The detention was totally worth it)."_

 _Give'em Hell._

 _-Dora._

Leave it to Tonks to make a simple note turn into a full rambling.

As if she would go to Snape on her own accord – the greasy git despised her enough as it was, no need to go looking for trouble.

On the other hand, a pond in his office…

She blinked away the thoughts, mentally cursing Dora for implanting the idea in her head – still, she made a mental notice to remember it later.

Her cousin graduated last year and was considering entering the Auror training under the watch of Alastor Moody, one of the man who saved her from Bellatrix Lestrange seven years ago. He was kind of frightening for his face was full of scars and his right eye was missing, a magical electric blue, fake eye in its place, that seemed to stared right through you.

Although he could scare anyone easily with a single glance, Charlotte thought he wasn't that bad. Despite the fact that the man had no sense of humor other than his sardonic and twisted jokes – no comments on that -, Moody was a great man. He had no qualms in face right ahead at the battle. He was brave, and under all of that distorted and almost permanent scowl on his face, laid an insatiable hunger for justice.

She knew that was why Tonks wanted to be trained by him. Alastor ' _Mad-eye_ ' Moody was a legend among the ranks of the Aurors. In fact, there was not a single person, other than most muggleborn or other people who dissociated themselves from the wizard world, that didn't know him. He was the best at what he did. Most death-eaters were now imprisoned – if not dead – because of him, including the three that were associated to her mother's death.

The thing was, this was a dangerous path to follow – yet, Charlotte could not help but thinking of joining it herself in future-, and she could understand why her cousin did not want for Andy to know about it.

Her Great-Aunt, however subtle it was, blamed on the Auror force for both of her mother's and James and Lily's death. Charlotte could not fathom why and tried to ask Andy about it several times, only for the woman to shake her head and leave the room in silence. Every attempt was more unsuccessful than the last, and with time, she stopped asking.

But now, if Andromeda heard ' _Tonks_ ' and ' _Aurors_ ' in the same sentence, she was sure to testify the Second Wizarding War that would have even Snape running for his life.

Andy was not a Black and a Slytherin for nothing. One minute she was eerie calm and the next she would be downright terrifying, yelling to her heart's content at anyone who dared to oppose anything she said.

Charlotte folded the notes and shoved in her pocket, shaking her head and hoping that Tonks would wait a little while to blow the news to her mother. She seized the box and opened the lid, an intoxicating, sugary scent invaded her nostrils, making her nearly drool at the sight of the many chocolate balls just waiting to be devoured.

 _Sorry, Ted._

She checked the Great Halls, taking notice of some students receiving their deliveries, some sweets and letters like herself, while she gulfed down another piece of her chocolate.

"Can I?"

Glancing at Ron, she realized the boy was staring hungrily, like she was just a few seconds before, at the box. Not even blinking.

She nodded.

"Go ahead."

Charlotte told the ginger boy but directed it to her others friends as well, Harry and Hermione taking one each after thanking her. Ron didn't even as much as look at her anymore, too focused on eating, savoring each bit of it in delight. Even the twins had their share. Fred and George were walking down the Gryffindor table, whispering to the other, then stole a few of them when she was distracted, ' _Thanks, Fair Lady!_ ', before dropping down next to Lee, sending her cheeky grins in return to her glare.

Luckily, the Tonks sent her a _huge_ box, or she would have hexed those two idiots.

Harry, she observed, hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh . . ." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, ". . . you've forgotten something . . ."

"It's not very helpful, is it?" Charlotte frowned in confusion. "I mean, how you're supposed to remember what you forgotten, if it doesn't tell you what it is?"

The others shrugged, although she was right.

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet and Charlie only sat there glaring at the unwelcomed boy. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. So typical of him to back out when someone else was around to reprimand him.

"Weakling."

The departing boys glared over their shoulders at her, but did nothing as Professor McGonagall still lingered at the same spot.

oOo

At three-thirty that afternoon, the three of them – Hermione left them earlier -, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Charlotte had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Standing between Harry and Hermione – Ron lingering in a spot next to Harry and Seamus-, the girl glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

She groaned, missing her Nimbus more than ever.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam

Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'" "UP!" everyone shouted.

The broom came to her hand just as she stopped talking. It was really easy, having done it a thousand times already.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid. There was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Charlotte, Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Told you so."

She whispered to the two, smirking at her reddening blond cousin.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Charlotte saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and — WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Charlie winced as she saw the boy collide with the ground.

 _Poor Neville._

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Charlotte, feeling the need to defend the boy.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little crybabies, Black."

"You like this albino ferret, so who are you to judge anyone, Pug face?"

She pointed to a seething Malfoy, his smug disappearing from his face. The two Slytherins flushed in anger and embarrassment while the Gryffindors oh-ed behind her.

"You will pay for that you— _stupid blood-traitor_!"

Charlotte snorted, though her words were mocking, her face was nothing but somber.

"That was so smart, Parkinson… How much time did you spent thinking of it? The whole morning? I feel so insulted right now— _really_ …" she rolled her eyes. "I always knew there was a reason why people like you- "she pointed to the Slytherin lot. "couldn't get sorted in Ravenclaw. These silly comments are getting really old… I mean, if you want to insult me, at least be original about it."

That wasn't, perhaps, the best thing to say, because the offended kids were advancing on her, wearing matching, hateful expressions. Nevertheless, she stood her ground, not even wincing when a bulky girl tried to push her. Her friends came to her aid at that, although she did not ask for it, and a hand seized her forearm to pull her away just as she pushed the girl – that Charlotte later remembered being Millicent Bulstrode -, in return.

"Don't stoop down to their level, Charlie—they're not worth it."

Hermione's voice sounded far away but it did reach her ears, making her glare at Bulstrode and then at her friend, her features softening. "Thanks, 'Mione"

Everybody was returning to their own conversations, trying to diffuse the tension and forget what just occurred, when Draco thought that was a good time to make the attention turn to him once more instead.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

 _Here we go again._

Charlotte would have started another contest, but a reproachful glance from Hermione made her shut her mouth.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking – again- to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he _could_ fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called,

"Come and get it, Potter!" Harry grabbed his broom.

" _No_!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him _._ He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and was awarded with screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

"Get him, Harry!" Hermione gave her an unbelieving look. "What?"

The bushy-haired girl shook her head and rolled her eyes, sighing to herself.

Harry turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" "Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Charlotte gasped and saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball — wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — he stretched out his hand ' _Come on, Harry'_ — a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"Fantastic, Harry." A smiling Charlotte clapped him on the shoulder.

"HARRY POTTER!"

"Oh, Merlin…"

She said as she saw Professor McGonagall running toward them. Harry got to his feet, trembling.

" _Never_ — in all my time at Hogwarts —"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "— how _dare_ you — might have broken your neck —"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"

"Be quiet, Miss Black —"

"But Malfoy —"

"Quiet, Mr. Weasley— "

"Harry's innocent! Blame it on the retarded freak over there— "

"That's _enough,_ Ms. Black. Potter, follow me, now."

Charlotte caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as Harry left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. She was so mad! Why did Malfoy have to ruin everything?

"… bet he will be out of Hogwarts before you can say _filthy bl— "_

"You better hope that he won't, Malfoy."

"What will do, Black? Cry to your pathetic godfather because you lost your little _friend_?" He sneered.

Glaring into his face, she stopped close enough to her cousin to hiss at him.

"At least I have friends," Hermione was shifting uncomfortably behind her, but Ron and the others were waiting for a fight to break out. "If something happens to Harry, I'll make sure something happens to you. He may return home, expelled and alive, but mark my words, _Malfoy_ —the same won't be said for you."

Many would think she was absolutely mad for making such clear threat like that, yet at that point, Charlotte was not even caring about the consequences of it. If one of her friends was in trouble, there would be hell to pay for the ones responsible for it.

The boy unconsciously took a step back, gulping. She was a girl, and no more than a few months older than him, that was true. However, his mother told him about the infamous Black temper that seemed to be passed through the generations, especially to the female side of the family. His mother, Narcissa, was a Black, after all.

Making her point across, Charlotte crossed the grounds, and clutching both of Hermione's and Ron's wrists in her hands, she dragged them inside the castle, making sure to remember to visit Neville at the Hospital Wing later. The three walked down the field, leaving the others to stare after them in bewilderment.

oOo

"You're _joking._ "

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling then what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Apparently, after the whole confusion at the Quidditch lesson, Professor McGonagall led Harry to a fifth-year boy called Oliver Wood that was the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They were looking for a Seeker and McGonagall thought Harry would be perfect for the spot. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"He already said he isn't joking, Ron."

" _Seeker_?" he said, ignoring Charlotte completely, opting to gawk at Harry in awe. "But first years _never_ — you must be the youngest House player in about —"

"— a century," said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

"I bet everyone will know by tomorrow morning…" Charlotte chuckled, knowing that the Wood boy probably would not kept the secret for long.

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too — Beaters."

Charlotte gave a pointed look to the boys as if to say _'see?_ ', a smug grin on her face.

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

However, before they left—

"See ya, Fair Lady!"

Of course.

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You really don't learn, do you?" With a glare from her, Malfoy remembered their little talk from earlier and paled for a second, before his nonchalant look was back, though he still seemed a little tense, if his posture was enough clue, at the way her eyes narrowed into slits.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around, not seeing the murderous look he was receiving from Charlie. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other, and in that moment, Charlie twirled around, hissing between her teeth.

" _Are you mad?_ A _duel_ —with _Malfoy_ of all people?"

"Bloody hell—what's the matter?"

"The matter, _Ronald_ , is that Malfoy is planning something. For starters, I doubt he's even showing up."

"You are just paranoid," Ron dismissed her concern.

"This is called being cautious— "

"What _is_ a wizard's duel?" Harry interrupted before things got heated between them. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie while Charlotte huffed, looking away from them and murmuring something that sounded like ' _Stupid male ego'_. Catching the look on Harry's face, Ron added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy will be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Charlotte suggested halfheartedly.

"Excuse me."

They looked up. It was Hermione.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

" _Ron_ …"

"What?"

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"— and you _mustn't_ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

Hermione glanced at Charlotte who shrugged her shoulders. "Don't look at me like that—I may like a little trouble once in a while, but I'm not a part of this." Then she continued eating, looking up as her friend left the Great Hall.

oOo

She was laying on her bed, pretending to be asleep as she listened to the soft snores of her roommates. Lavender and Parvati were still gossiping when she returned to her dorm, but it didn't take too long for them to go to their own beds and Charlotte has been awake ever since.

The room was quiet, yet she knew that Hermione was just as awake as she was. Both of them were worried the boys would follow through the stupid plan of going to meet Malfoy—it smelled like trouble. Her cousin would not start a fight at this hour, much less without no one around to cheer for him. Her cousin was the type of person to vainglory himself at any opportunity he had. He was up to something—she didn't know what, but she would find out.

So obviously, she had to stop the boys from falling into his trap, or at least try to get them out of it.

When the clock struck half-past eleven, Charlotte threw her covers off her body, letting the cold air hit her skin. Her feet hit the floor noiselessly as she sat at the foot of her bed, and she crouched down, putting on her sneakers and then tiptoed to the door.

"Wait for me."

Charlotte jumped in surprise, whirling around to face Hermione, who, too, was putting on her own shoes, before getting up and walking to Charlie.

"Hermione—are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry," she didn't seem sorry at all. 'Let's go. The boys must be leaving at any minute now."

They walked downstairs to the Common Room and waited by the fireplace, alert to any noise coming from the boys' dorm. Not even five minutes after, there was footsteps coming from the staircase, and two whispering figures appeared at the room, their shadows swimming on the walls because of the glow coming from the fireplace.

Harry and Ron never notice the girls watching them. They passed the couch without as much as a glance and had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown, standing behind the form of an upset looking Charlotte.

" _You_!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy — he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

"Come on," Harry said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

"It's a trap, Harry—can't you see it?" Charlotte followed them.

"I'm not letting Malfoy think that I chickened out."

"He won't be there!"

But he wasn't listening and Ron did nothing to help her. She and Hermione weren't going to give up that easily, though. They followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you _care_ about Gryffindor, do you _only_ care about yourselves, _I_ don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"If you're still following through with this, then I'll go with you."

" _Charlie!_ "

"I just want to make sure them don't get killed—I know more spells than both of them." Thanks, Godric she remembered to pocket her wand.

"You'll get into trouble too— "

"Just go away." Ron was getting very annoyed at the bushy-haired girl, and it was only a matter of time before he started yelling at her.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so —"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go; we're going to be late."

Charlotte gave a regretful gaze to the other girl but walked off with the boys. They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are _not._ "

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve —" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Charlotte sharply, glancing quickly at Harry, she could see that he had noticed the same thing she had. "I heard something." It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours; I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" said Harry, only now having the opportunity to talk to him—Charlotte gave the boy a swift visit at the Hospital Wing before dinner.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good — well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later —"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward, he and Charlotte leading the way.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Charlie expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet—not that she thought they would turn up, either way. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Charlotte took out her wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once, Harry and Ron following suit. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

"Malfoy set you up, idiot. He won't show up." Charlotte glared at the two boys.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak — and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Charlotte waved madly at the other four to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run — he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Charlie yelled, and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following — they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going — they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I — _told_ — you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I — told — you."

" _We_ told you." Charlotte was no different than Hermione, breathing hard and crouched down with her hands on her knees.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Charlotte knew that Harry thought she was probably right, but he didn't say anything.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves — please — you'll get us thrown out." Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please." Charlotte begged, knowing that Peeves somewhat had a soft spot for her. ' _Pranking buddies'_ he once said.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a sanity voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves — this was a big mistake.

"Ron—don't!"

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves' shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Charlotte's wand just when the other girl was about to say the spell herself, tapped the lock, and whispered, " _Alohomora_!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now _where did they go_?"

 _Don't rat us out, please._ Charlotte was praying in her head.

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right — _please._ "

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

Sighing in relief, Charlie finally took notice of the room the just stumbled into, only to gasp in surprise.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay — get _off,_ Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. " _What_?"

"Harry… I-I think I know why Dumbledore told us not to come to the third-floor— "

Harry turned around, not quite understanding why Charlie was pale and stuttering all of a sudden. Well—that was until he saw the same thing she did.

For a moment, Charlotte was sure she'd walked into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Charlotte knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. Yet, even at the situation at hand, she noticed something under the beast, but that was hardly the time for that. They needed to get the bloody hell out of there.

Being the one closest to the door, she groped for the doorknob — between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

 _Could not say the same if it was Andromeda, though_. She thought. _Better die devoured by a three-headed creature than at the hands of her furious great-aunt._

They fell backward — Charlotte slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared — all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that — pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again. That was before an angry huff echoed through the Common Room and a furious Charlotte grabbed a cushion from the couch, hitting Ron over and over again.

"I told you—I told you—I told you!" she smacked the complaining boy right in the face. "You had to prove yourselves, right?"

Then she spun, and advanced on her black-haired friend that was watching in shock as she hit him on his arm, much like she was doing with Ron.

"You are such an idiot—both of you!"

"I'm—ouch—sorry! Really!"

Charlotte knew she couldn't be mad at Harry. She huffed and threw the cushion at the couch, but it hit the corner of a chair at the other side of the room, and fell to the floor. She shrugged.

Facing the boys, she gave them a glare.

"Now—when I tell you not to trust Malfoy, what will you do?"

" _Listen to you_ …" they replied in unison. She doubted they would keep their word, but for now, she was pleased.

"So—What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione, being a bit amused by the scene of her friend hitting the boys, had got her bad temper back again in a second.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet; I was too busy with its heads."

"She meant the trapdoor, Harry—It's obviously guarding something." She whispered the last part to herself, but the other heard it too.

"What trapdoor?" he asked, confused.

Hermione ignore him and stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed—Are you coming, Charlie?"

"Yep. After that, I really need a good night of sleep." Hermione walked upstairs.

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?" he said.

Charlotte was about to go to her dormitory, when she turned to the boys, a pondering expression on her face.

"You know—now the adrenaline is over and we're not running for our lives, I think—besides the whole _want-to-kill-us_ part, the dog was pretty cute, don't you think?"

She was met with the perplexed looks from them, including from Neville who looked ready to pass out.

"Never mind, then." Blushing slightly, she bid them goodnight and went to her dorm.

As she climbed on her bed, Charlotte couldn't help but recall the trapdoor she saw only moments before. There was something in there—something no one was supposed to know. Probably something dangerous or really valuable, or else, why would they keep a three-headed dog in a school? Charlie had a feeling that, whatever it was, would end up causing trouble later on. With that in mind, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

oOo


	9. Halloween

**Wow! Three weeks already... Sorry guys :( It's getting harder to update with my classes now but I'll try to update at least twice in a month. So, new chapter. This is a huge one. And I mean huuuuge! I thought I was never going to finish it, but I did :D Thanks to everyone that reads this story. Now on with the chapter. ;)**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 9 - Halloween**

.

After the whole Malfoy disaster, all of us agreed to never speak about that night -the whole trapdoor and three-headed dog thing included-, as we were afraid of being punished in case a professor, Merlin forbid Professor McGonagall, discovered that we were wandering after curfew without permission, to a place we were not even supposed to be at.

Trying to forget didn't work for Charlotte, though. She kept replaying the scene in her mind, over and over again, adding to the fact that Harry told them about the mysterious package that Hagrid retrieved from the vault at Gringotts. Something wasn't right.

She thought about what Griphook told her the day she was at the wizarding bank—everything belonging to any ancient and important family was secluded at the deepest -and safest- parts of the Gringotts bank. What he forgot to mention – or simply didn't want to tell her- was that apparently, potentially dangerous packages were kept in there as well.

Neither Neville – though he hardly spoke at all, so she couldn't tell what the boy thought about it- nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor, but that was only because their querying mind would lead them to break some rules, and that meant trouble. The words 'Hermione' and 'trouble' just didn't match. So the bushy-haired girl tried to quell her curiosity with piles and more piles of assignments for the oncoming week. On the other hand, all Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus.

Meanwhile, Ron, Charlotte and Harry were feeling too curious to let go of the matter.

Charlotte should have followed her friend and contain her own inquisitiveness—Remus, and much less Andromeda, would be none too happy to hear she was delving in some matter that just didn't concern her, but truthfully, she didn't. And neither did Harry.

The two spent hours thinking, hoping to figure out what was hidden within the small bag he saw Hagrid carrying all the way through Diagon Alley. The same 'what', she knew, that was now being secured under the trapdoor.

Charlotte and Harry walked down the corridor, exchanging hushed whispers as they hurried past a group of giggling fourth-year girls, pointing at some unfortunate boy that knocked right into an older guy, who was now openly glaring down at him, a few books scattered across the floor. She had half-mind to help the boy, but before she could, he hastily gathered his books in his arms and took off running, nearly tripping over his feet. Charlotte stared until the boy couldn't be seen, and suddenly, she had an insight of the day they went to Hagrid's hut.

"Harry— "he turned with a questioning look. "What you've said at Hagrid's…that day at Diagon Alley when we met—it was your birthday?" She asked, only now realizing she overlooked her friend's birthdate.

She was such a bad friend.

The boy stopped mid-step for a moment, his head turning slightly to the side, making his glasses topple a little to the right. He didn't seem to know what she was talking about, but then a clear look passed his eyes as he replied. "Oh—yeah. I didn't remember."

"Why haven´t you told us, Harry?" She complained. "We could have thrown you a party, or at least, baked you a cake— "

"It wasn't something on my mind, actually. Besides, it doesn't matter, Charlie—being away from the Dursleys was good enough for a present, to tell you the truth—Really."

He added as he noticed the doubtful look she sent him.

What he didn't know, was that Charlotte already had a plan devised in her head. No one should have a birthday like that, it was so dull. No cake and no presents? No, that wouldn't do.

She kept quiet the whole way back to the Common Room, listening to an oblivious Harry that was still on about the corridor on the third-floor. The girl grinned, although that went undetected by her companion.

The Common Room was almost empty when they told the password to the Fat Lady and entered through the portrait hole—there was only a strange little girl, probably a year above them, silently scribbling down on a piece of parchment. Harry took off upstairs to his dorm after bidding farewell to Charlotte, leaving the girl to herself, a thousand ideas swimming inside that devious head of hers.

She spent a few good ten minutes like that, staring unblinkingly at a spot just above the portrait of a Quidditch player, right beside the fireplace, missing the other students moving in and out of the Common Room, yet, she looked up as two familiar voices boomed across the room, the figures of Fred and George emerging from the staircase, talking animatedly between each other.

"That wouldn't work, though," Fred's voice rang.

"Maybe we should add on some blue powder—they wouldn't like that, I reckon."

"No, I don't think they would, George."

"Hey, guys!"

They would never admit, but Charlotte saw them give a little jump, George even let out a frightened squeak, when she appeared so unexpectedly behind them. Having sneaked upon Remus countless times on her childhood to go to a late excursion by the lake, she developed a knack at getting around unnoticed. That would prove to be really useful later on.

"Fair Lady!"

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

The redheads grinned at the girl, dragging her closer and moving near the couch, dropping on it with Charlotte squashed between them.

"I need your help with something,"

Fred and George shared a mischievous glance.

"What would that be, my Lady?"

"Only tell us and we'll fulfill your heart's desire." Fred winked at her teasingly.

Rolling her eyes at their antics, she lowered her voice and keep an eye on the staircase leading to the boys' room, in case Harry and Ron decided to come down early.

"The map, "She told them, knowing they would get the message right away. "Do you still have it?"

"Why—of course!" They echoed together feigning indignation. "What do you think we are, Fair Lady?"

At her incredulous face and raised eyebrow, they retorted.

"Never mind that."

"So— "George began. "What do you need our assistance with?"

"You guys told me you'd found out the kitchens once— "

"And have been nicking food from there ever since, yeah…proceed,"

"Anyway," she stretched out the word. "I need you to take me there."

There was a tone of finally in her voice that told the twins that it wasn't exactly a request—they _would_ escort her down the kitchen whether they want it or not, otherwise, Charlotte would definitely find another way in.

Even so, the boys were not against the idea at all, if anything they were bouncing in excitement -internally, of course- at the prospect of corrupting the younger's mind. Not that she required. Sometimes, Charlotte's trouble making could put the Weasley boys to shame. As far as she knew, Fred and George never escaped late at night when they were supposed to be sleeping, only because they were bored. If they did, Molly certainly would yell at them for eternity. Remus sure did.

Fred and George could never count on their other brothers with things like that, being the ones in the house to wouldn't exchange a good laugh for anything. The older siblings, Charlie and Bill were not even home anymore. Charlie was at Romania working with dragons and Bill was a curse breaker, so they barely seen each other. Percy, on the other hand, was a goody-two-shoes, always trying to be the prime of excellence. They mother usually told them, " _Why can you not be more like your brother?"_. But that was a laughable idea—no one wanted to be like Perfect Percy, the one who cared more about his image than his own family.

The youngest, Ron and little Ginny were not really cooperative, the two were too scared of being scolded and punished by a furious Molly. All in all, they had no one besides one another to do what they were the best at. Having fun.

Therefore, the two were more than happy to finally have someone to share their 'knowledge' with, especially with the person practically being like their own sister.

"Lookie there, Fred, Ickle Lottie is falling from the good path straight into the devil's one."

"Can't fall from a place you never been at, Georgie," she smirked teasingly, going along with them.

Fred pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, staring at her with a fake sad frown.

"They grow up so fast, don't they?"

"Indeed, Freddie."

The girl shook her head with a smile, she really liked their company. They could be annoying sometimes, but she knew she could always count on them to make her day better.

A noise of door closing caught her attention, making her twist her head around fast, nearly knocking her chin on George's shoulder. The redheads blinked at her in confusion, turning around afterward to understand what made her stop, but saw nothing.

"What— "

"Shhh…" A hand slapping over his mouth shut him up.

Fred and George gave her a weird look, though she didn't notice with her back turned on them. She carefully watched the stairs for a few moments, trying to see if anyone was coming down, but no one did. She sighed in relief and lowered her voice. "Can you take me there tonight—please?"

She gave them an imploring glance, still half focused on the stairs.

"Will you tell us why?"

"No,"

The two stared at her in outrage.

"Why not?"

"Fair Lady!"

" _Because_ it's a secret, and if I tell you now no doubt that the whole Hogwarts will know by dinner." She explained, rolling her eyes.

"Ridiculous— "

"Preposterous— "

"We would never— "

"How could you think that?"

"Yeah-yeah, get used to it. Well—Will you take me there or do I have to steal the map and find it myself?" The map was something created by four boys throughout their schooling days. It basically showed every corner, north to south, of Hogwarts, even its secrets passageways, it could point out everyone's location and what they were doing. The only reason she knew that was because her godfather told her, as he was one of the four to create it.

Funny thing was that Fred and George started worshiping Wormtail, Padfoot, Moony and Prongs, the inventors of the 'Marauders Map' but had no idea who they were. They didn't even take the hint every time she would call her godfather 'Moony', thus they never realized that one of the folks they were looking for was just in front of their nose the entire time.

The twins whined. "We still don't understand how you know about the map…"

"You'll never know."

oOo

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry, Charlotte and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, while Charlotte started stuffing her plate with food, having heard it all from Harry before, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry and Charlie mumbled in agreement.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first – Charlotte reading over his shoulder, as usual-, which was lucky, because it said:

.

 ** _DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._**

 _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

 _Professor M. McGonagall_

 _._

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even _touched_ one."

Charlotte was wearing a confused expression.

"Why Professor McGonagall said she didn't want anyone knowing you got a broom? She knows the package has the format of a broomstick, right? Everyone can see that." Harry and Ron shrugged.

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

"Jealous, cousin?" Charlotte smirked knowingly at him.

He snorted in scorn, but one could easily see he was indeed jealous. "As if, Black. Why would I want some old piece of wood?"

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

Charlotte cleared her throat, pointing her thumbs to herself. "Girl over here."

"Oh, right—my apologies, Ms. Black."

"Potters been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly. "Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

"Have a nice day, cuz'" Charlie threw a mocking wave over her shoulder.

The three headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team…"

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

" _Hermione…_ "

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good." Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

"You _really_ had to say that _?_ I wish you would stop bickering—it's getting annoying already." Charlotte's eyes trailed the route the other girl made, letting out an exhausted sigh through her frowning lips.

"Not my fault, she is the one nosing into people's business." Ron complained making a face as if recalling something. "I still can't understand how you put up with her, Charlie, she's so—"

"Want me to kick you again, Ronald?"

" _Never mind_."

"That's what I thought."

Harry never said anything—up until now, Charlotte didn't tell him off like she did Ron, and he wanted to stay that way. Though that wasn't to say he disagreed with his ginger comrade. Hermione certainly could be somewhat bothersome.

oOo

After dinner, she and rushed upstairs to the boys' dorm with Harry and Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last. She was so thrilled to see it that she could not keep still in her seat, gaining a few weird glances from her friends.

Her glassed friend just received a brand new broom—a Nimbus two thousand, nonetheless. The same one she saw at Diagon Alley. Even if she was feeling a bit of envy, she knew it wasn't exactly a bad, envious way. Charlotte only wished she had the opportunity to buy her own Nimbus—well, maybe next year. Regardless, she was happy for Harry, she knew he deserved it.

At least it was Harry, and not her insufferable cousin. Merlin knows she would spend the whole year listening Malfoy bragging about it.

The boys opened the door and entered the room, Charlotte trailing behind them and looking around. The dorm looked like her own, only the walls were in a dark wood color, and there was stuff thrown across the ground leaving it a big mess—her dormitory would be the same if not for the other girl, especially Hermione. Charlotte herself wasn't exactly a neat person.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top. Charlotte was sure she was nearly slobbering at the sight of it.

They spent a good hour talking, equaling Harry's broom with the ones Charlotte and Ron had. The latter babbled for minutes about how they finally made a broomstick that didn't tremble when at high heights—his own broom was one of old model, and sometimes it shook slightly when he got fifteen feet off the ground.

Later on, Harry got ready to meet with Oliver Wood, seizing his broom and walking out the door and down to the Common Room.

"Wait, Harry!"

Hurried footsteps caught his attention, making him stop at the top of the staircase, just outside the Fat Lady's portrait. Charlotte came running his way, her hair floating behind her and a few loose strands escaped her ponytail and were stuck on her face, before she pushed it away with her hand.

"Can I go with you? I want to try for the next year."

Harry nodded. "Of course,"

"Do you think Wood would mind?" she questioned. Maybe the captain of the Quidditch team was just like the rest and would not like to have her around—her being a Black and everything.

"I don't think so," he was confused.

"Are you sure? What if he doesn't want me there and toss me out the pitch?" Technically, she didn't think Wood could throw her out of there, but who knows—the apprehensive part of her mind was making the worst scenarios pass through her head.

"Why would he do that?"

The innocent question escaped her friend's lips—he still was not aware of her situation at the moment. He knew what happened to her parents—the part about her mother being dead and her imprisoned father, at least—yet, he didn't know the reason why everyone badmouthed her, or why whenever her father's name was mentioned the girl would suddenly turn stiff as a rock.

Charlotte promised herself she _would_ tell him the truth one day—who she truly was and the reason behind her father's imprisonment. She only hoped he wouldn't not hate her when that day came. She could take the hateful glares from the other students, though she wouldn't be able to handle if it were to come from one of those she considered friends.

There was no answer to his question, she merely nodded and decided to accompany him—she would deal with the consequences later, if it came to it.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry and Charlotte left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. They never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling — he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field while Charlotte stayed at the ground, watching him.

"Professor McGonagall wasn't kidding—He's really good."

She jumped and quickly turned at the sound of the voice coming behind her. There was a crunching sound as a boy walked closer, his shoes stepping over the grass, until he was right beside her.

Charlotte glanced up, meeting the light brown eyes of the older boy. Subtly scanning his face, Charlotte could see he was a fairly good-looking guy. Opposite to her pale complexion, he had a tanned, healthy skin tone, obviously from the many hours under the sun playing Quidditch—he was burly from all the exercise and his dirty blond hair complemented his other features very well. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, not knowing how to act around him. "Yeah,"

Wood stared at her for a minute, grinned and offered his hand afterwards.

"Oliver Wood."

"I know," she gave him a grin in return, albeit a small one. "I'm Charlotte— "

"Black, I know." He copied her words. He was still smiling at her, not even noticing the turmoil of emotions she was feeling at the moment. "Everyone knows about you—I can say that you're almost as famous as Harry over there."

He pointed in the direction where Harry was now flying to.

Although his choice of words left her slightly uncomfortable, they weren't unkind. Oliver didn't glare or frown at her like the others did. "Fred and George told me a lot about you—You like Quidditch, right?"

She sighed in relief and slowly nodded, releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding. Charlotte only then realized he was waiting for a reply.

"Yeah, I really love Quidditch ever since a was a child. I still remember the first time I mounted a broom—I`ve played since then."

He gave her a surprised look.

"You play?" Oliver asked. "The twins once told me but I though they weren't serious—no offense."

"None taken. Many girls really don't like playing—my mother didn't like it either." She recalled something. "I know someone who does, though, I think you know her—Nymphadora. She graduated last year."

"Nymphadora Tonks? You know her?" the older boy asked with astonishment all over his features.

"My cousin, actually." She snickered, remembering the clumsy woman.

"I remember good old Nymphie, she was funny—and always tripping over something. Once she made herself to look like Professor McGonagall and gave detention to a few third-years that were hanging around in the hallways. Said they were disturbing the others and blocking the way. Nonetheless, the real Professor McGonagall discovered what happen when the boys came barging into her office for such unfair detention. Suffice to say, she wasn't amused. Nymphie was the one who got detention in the end, though she only laughed it off." Wood finished, staring into space with fond amusement.

Charlotte thought there was more to that story that she guessed and wondered if Oliver had a crush on her cousin. That could be a great blackmail material.

It was quiet for a few minutes, then Oliver seemed to snap out of his trance, shaking his head.

"So—which position do you play, Ms. Black?"

"Chaser." She did not even hesitate.

He hummed.

"Unfortunately, all the spots are taken this year. Potter was lucky we were looking for a seeker."

Charlotte offered him a smile. "No problem—there's always next year."

"You're trying out?" she nodded. "I'll go easy on you, don't worry." He winked at her, referring to the fact he would be the one to decide whether she would be on the time or not.

"Thanks, Ollie—but I don't want you to go easy on me. That wouldn't be fair." She mocked him. "Besides, I have something going on for me."

Turning to her, his brown eyes met her confident ones. "And what that would be?"

"Talent."

A smirk came to her lips as a chuckle tore from his throat, ringing through the Quidditch pit. There were little wrinkles at the corner of his eyes as he laughed, she noticed. Charlotte was feeling happy she had someone to joke around. Oliver was a really nice guy.

The two stayed like that, standing beside each other, watching her friend flying around the hops with his new broomstick, now and then, his whops of delight would reach their ears, making the two smile.

That went for almost twenty minutes, when Oliver thought that it was time to call her friend back to begin his training.

"Hey, Potter, come down!"

Harry landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant . . . you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls. Charlotte kept shut the entire time, deciding to let the boy start explaining everything to her black-haired friend.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So — that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

Charlotte couldn't stop the chuckle from leaving her mouth. The boys turned around to look at her and she blushed from the attention.

"Never mind," said Harry quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper — I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harry, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

Charlotte watched as he showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air — it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team — the Weasley twins are ours — it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So — think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er — have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers —" Wood told Harry, to what Charlotte whispered, ' _Yeah, right'_ , sarcastically.

"— unless they crack my head open." The girl covered a chuckle with her fist, receiving a grin from the older boy.

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers — I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

" _This,_ " said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages — I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.

"Well, that's it — any questions?"

Harry shook his head.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air while Charlie made herself comfortable sitting with her legs crossed on the ground, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. When they got back, Harry lent Charlotte his broomstick, and she took off, the same delightful feelings from years back coming to her as cut through the wind, her whoops of joy ringing across the pit as she soared around the hops and towers, and back to the boys.

After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup will have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

Turning to the disheveled girl, who was trying to arrange her hair into a high ponytail while biting her lower lip in concentration, Oliver smirked, finding the scene amusing.

"I think you have your spot guaranteed for the next year, Ms. Black—Impressive flying, by the way. Who knew a little thing like you could do that." He mockingly said, referring to the many flips she did, spinning in a full angle twice in a row.

"I'll show you the little thing, Oliver—my tryout will be so good you will cry in shame every time you see a broom, because a _little girl_ is a much better flier than you, an old lad." Harry let out a small laugh.

"Ouch," He fake-frowned, though a small smile appeared not much longer after. "That is so cruel, Ms. Black."

"You've been spending too much time with Fred and George,"

"I could say the same about you."

Charlotte stared at him and hummed, before facing forwards.

"Touché."

oOo

There was a sound of ruffling in the once silent room, a brown-haired girl throwing the blankets off, careful not to wake her roommates, and softly tiptoed to the door, leaving the dorm and closing the door behind her.

Fortuitously, no one was downstairs as she waited by the window, staring at the grounds. At distance, she heard the clock striking midnight, the moon was bright against the dark sky. She observed the few stars in her sight, recognizing the one that named her own father—if not her entire family by her father's side.

Arcturus. Orion. _Sirius_.

A long sigh escaped her parted lips as she stared at the dog star. How much she longed to see his face—even if just once. If her father hadn't been convinced, maybe her mother would be alive. They would be a family – not that Remus and the Tonks weren't her family -, and probably, she would have a few siblings to play and coddle with.

A _thump_ made her snap out of her thoughts, and she twirled around to make sure nobody was coming down, but she tensed when she noticed there was definitely someone coming to the Common Room. She released a breath, relieved, as she realized the figures of Fred and George. It was hard not to recognize, even with the darkness in the room, their bright, flaming red hair as they glanced at the spot where she sat by the window.

"Finally, I thought you two weren't coming."

"And lose the chance to sneak out?"

"You wound us, Fair Lady." George brought a hand to his chest, feigning hurt.

Charlotte scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"That would be way more effective if you got the right place, idiot—besides, you would sneak out either way."

"You caught us,"

"Little Lottie knows us so well, Freddie."

"I always knew she loved us." Fred wiped a fake tear from the corner of his left eye.

The girl rolled her eyes at them again—all she wanted at the moment was to go back to her dorm and drop over her bed. Only thinking about the warm, soft blankets around her, made her almost shut her eyelids. She blinked sleepily and gave a low yawn.

"Is Ickle Lottie tired?" Staring at her with a jutting lip, Fred mocked her, laying his palm on her head and messing her dark locks.

"Gerrof'," She whined in annoyance, slapping his hands away from her. The boy only laughed. It was so fun to get a rise out of her. "Oh—shut it."

George stepped from behind his brother and brought to a one-armed hug. "Shall we go, Fair Lady?"

She nodded in his embrace. He was just so comfortable—there was such warmth coming from him. She was getting so drowsy. If she could close her eyes only for a minute—.

"Hey, sleeping beauty—come on. You can sleep later." Charlotte lifted her head from his chest and hummed, knowing he was right.

"Yeah, let's go."

Charlotte walked to the portrait, lazily, while the twins silently trailed behind her. They ignored the protests coming from an agitated Fat Lady, _'You shouldn't be out of your dorm',_ as Fred and George leaded her down the staircase, snoring sounds following them when they passed the sleeping pictures.

The shadows danced around the walls, disappearing within the darkness, only to reappear with every lit torch they crossed as they marched down the hallways. George fumbled the front pocket of his dark green jumper for a second, then removed what seemed to be a blank parchment—though she knew better.

Fred went to help his brother, muttering something until the tip of his wand glowed white, so now they could see at least they own feet, but not enough to bother the portraits, and pointed it between him and Charlotte, while George took out his own wand and tapped the parchment twice with its tip, before clearing his throat.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good."

At once, black dots began forming around the blank space, turning into lines, then words.

.

 _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

 _Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

 _are proud to present_

 ** _THE MARAUDER'S MAP_**

 _._

Charlotte knew the words by heart—for how many years she heard the same words leaving her godfather's lips. There was no way to tell her about Remus' past at Hogwarts without mentioning, at least once, the thing that kept the four boys busy for years until they finally could get it done.

Every single one of them – except for Peter Pettigrew, who, as far as she knew, had no talent or ability whatsoever at none of his classes -, poured a piece of themselves, figuratively, of course. While Remus had a set of perfect scores in his all of his classes, the other two were smart, however they didn't really care about their education. Yet, Remus, James and Sirius were exceedingly endowed in Defense Against the Dark Arts—her father was apparently a prodigy at Transfiguration too, maybe that's why she thought the class to be easy.

Another class she was fairly good at—although this time she must have got from her mother—was potions. Regrettably, that meant more time at the presence of the devil himself, as known as Severus Snape, her potions teacher.

All the delight she took from the mixing ingredients and the weak, smoky steam coming from the boiling cauldrons was deflated every time he so much as looked her way—Snape made a routine of lingering around, hovering over her desk, as if waiting for her to commit an error—that never occurred, though.

The girl focused on the map, observing the three dots standing close to each other, labeled with their names. George searched for Filch's name, finding him a few inches to the right, his dot moving the opposite way from where they were.

"Filch's at the sixth-floor and Ms. Norris at the forth, so we don't have to worry about them catching us. Are you ready, Char?"

She sent him a look and furrowed her brows. "How many nicknames do I have?"

A mischievous grin came to his lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

The twins chuckled at her groan, she knew very well they would hold whatever name they made up for her to possibly embarrass her in a future situation.

Her feet were already getting numb from all the walking—normally, she could be very energetic, Remus sometimes had trouble keeping her still and quiet, most of the times to no avail. However, Charlotte was still getting used to being away from home – even though she's been here for a few months -, and was having some trouble to fall asleep.

Now it seemed that sleep was catching up on her, making her feel more tired than usual. How she longed for her godfather's hot chocolate—each time he would put a piece of bittersweet chocolate and foam at the top. It was some kind of tradition since she was a little girl when her mother was still alive.

There were nights when she woke up screaming, Remus would barge into the room to the sight of her shaking and sweating, tears continuously running down her face due to her nightmares that weren't exactly nightmares.

That was a term used for when one had images plotted into their head, real or not, as they slept, making them live, even if for a brief minute, things that frightened them the most. What she had weren't bad dreams—that was her own haunting memories.

As a seven year-old, a girl could not help but feeling terrified and helpless as they relived parts of her life she would rather just bury somewhere deep inside her mind. Though sometimes it could not be helped.

So her werewolf guardian would run downstairs to the kitchen and come back not long after with a soaked rag in one hand and a steaming cup of liquid chocolate in the other. Remus waited for her to speak, but sometimes she just wanted to sit in silence with him, so he would dab the wet cloth against her forehead gently, putting his arms around her trembling figure and bringing them to sit against the head of the bed, while she tightly held the cup in her little hands—no words exchanged.

"And here—we are." Two voices sang in unison.

Charlotte broke out of her reverie - she was doing a mental dance because they finally got at their destination -, and stared at the spot the redheads were pointing.

At the end of the narrowed, poor lightened corridor they were at, a quite suspicious looking portrait of a bowl of fruits was innocently hanging at the wall. Most people would look at them as if they were crazy, freak and then scold them for dragging to the middle of nowhere—but she knew better. With time she learned not to underestimate those two.

George threw a last glance at the map and tapped it again with his wand, "Mischief Managed", to what Charlotte mouthed along with him, much to the Weasleys confusion, that were staring at her as if waiting for her reaction. The boy then proceeded to shove the piece of parchment inside his pocket, as Fred stepped forward and, to Charlotte's surprise and amusement, tickled the painted pear in the picture, making it giggle.

"Did you just— "

"Tickled a pear? Yeah," Fred answered as the two smirked at her face.

"Alright, then…" She mumbled, still trying to process the fact that a _pear_ _just_ _giggled_.

George pushed the door ajar, motioning for her to go first with a mocking bow. "Ladies first."

And so she entered, Fred and George only a few steps behind her as the former locked the door behind him. She didn't listen to their next words, whether they were talking to each other or her, she had no idea—she was way too busy looking around to notice.

As it was past midnight, the kitchen elves were probably resting—there was no one in there other than the three. There was a trace of magic hanging in the air, she thought, before noticing a few couple of plates levitating around the sink, a soaped sponge washing them carefully in circular motions, then the clean dishes just floated again, going right to the cabinet that had its doors and drawers opened just in time for all the crockery to settle in, then it sealed shut again.

"Are you going to tell us why you wanted to come here?"

Ignoring Fred's question, she sat on a stool and brought her small hands to the cabinet, observing its wooden surface. Charlotte really wanted to accomplish what she came there for, but she didn't want to wake the elves up—poor creatures worked hard enough as it was.

Perhaps, she thought too soon, for after she was nearly standing from the stool and heading back to her dorm, a _poop_ was heard, and a tiny little creature with pointed teeth and doe eyes appeared in the center of the room, looking at them in apprehension and surprise. " _Oh,_ "

The elf, that Charlotte gathered was a female, squealed.

"Do misters and miss require something?" her voice was high-pitched and timid, but not at all annoying. Charlotte turned questioningly at the twins, only to receive a shrug in return. She turned to the elf again, seeing the slight defensive position she was holding—not that the girl could blame her, after all, elves were treated like dirt and slave by families such as the Malfoys, so it was no surprise that they started to see themselves as such, obeying every single stupid order from their masters, she thought in sarcasm, without questioning.

She hopped out from where she was sitting and rounded the cabinet slowly, as not to get the poor creature more nervous. Charlotte walked closer so now she was staring down at the elf that barely reached her waist.

"What's your name?"

The big doe eyes bashfully stared up at Charlie.

"I is named Trix, Missy."

"Charlotte, you can call me Charlie, though—Charlotte's too girly for me…" She trailed off as a low sob interrupted her, there was moisture forming in Trix's eyes as the little creature shook. "Huh—what's wrong? I'm sorry… Did I say anything? _What did I do?_ " the last part was whispered to the boys, who were too occupied laughing their asses off at her frantic state.

"Trix is never been treated with such gentleness— "as if only just realizing what she said, the tiny elf instantly threw her bony hands over her mouth, panic in her features, shaking her head furiously. "No—no, should not be talking about Master like that…"

Charlotte thought she meant Professor Dumbledore, observing as Trix stood frozen at her spot, but her eyes surveyed the room desperately, stopping her stare on a rusty frying pan on the sink, innocently still between the stove and a cleaver. Trix moved quickly across the kitchen, getting Charlie by surprise—she seized the pan in her shaking hands, ready to hit herself on her tear-stained face.

"No, no, no," Charlotte crossed the space with a few steps, grabbing the object out of the hands of the little crying figure in front of her. "No need for that—no harm done."

"Trix's a bad elf—so ungrateful."

She was clueless as to what she should do—Fred and George were no help either. They seemed to get a little bored and began going for the many drawers from the utensils cupboard. One with a rather large silver fork and the other with a soup spoon as they simulated a swordfight, not even caring they knocked a plastic bowl down, and much less, the figures of a hopeless girl and a sobbing mess just behind them.

Biting her lower lip and controlling herself not to throw the nearest thing at their heads, _'these idiots',_ Charlie was quick to change topic, hoping the elf would get distracted enough to stop crying.

"I was hoping you would help me with something, you see," she cleared her throat and scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. "I would try to do it myself, but I think that— "

A second was all it took for the elf to turn her glistening, big eyes on her, excitement replacing her fear. "Trix want to help," she told the girl. "What is it that you need, Ms. Black?"

"Just Charlie, please," she spoke, though she started chastising herself as she saw a hint of tears coming to Trix's eyes. "I would feel better if you call me that. Charlotte makes me uncomfortable—I feel like I'm in trouble." She added.

The last part was true, unfortunately. Every time she would sneak out of home to go on a night stroll, or fought with one of her classmates because they called her a freak—although, maybe she just should have ignored or insulted them back, and not use her fists to make a point—that was usually the way Remus and Andromeda would call her when they were about to reprimand her.

And when she did something really worth of a disappointed or angry frown—like when she told her childhood teacher – Ms. Parker, a single woman in her mid-thirties-, that she was a conceited and the most annoying woman she ever met and, quote _'I would be surprised if you find a man capable of tolerating you for a while day, without having a sudden death wish-his or yours'_ , they would call her Charlotte Grace—a name so girly that sometimes she wondered how she ended up the opposite of what she was supposed to be like.

The whole matter started when her magic got stronger with time, none of the subtle tricks she did back at home, like when she used to levitate, though only a few two inches, her stuffed black dog over her bed. When she started at school, things got a bit complicated.

Charlotte had her few share of friends when she was younger. Her mind still recalled of a blond girl and a boy, equally blond, that she used to hang around with. Back at the time, none of the kids had a problem with her—she always tried to be nice to everyone.

Until one day, Charlie lost control of her magic. It started slowly—there was one time when one book started falling from the edge of one of her classmates' desk, and she stopped it just before it hit the floor, putting on the table again and shifting in her seat as if nothing had happened. Most of the kids saw it, though.

The second time it happened was when a group of bullies from a year above, were tormenting a little auburn girl, pulling on her ponytail and stealing her bracelet. Obviously, Charlotte got mad. The girl was barely half her age at the time, sitting on her own quietly in the park in front of the school. While the other children were too afraid of facing the bullies themselves, she went on her own, too furious to even care that was one against four.

As she got closer, the girl was standing, trying to get her bracelet back—she let out a pained shriek when the biggest boy pushed her down rather forcefully, her eyes filling with tears as she landed on the dirty ground, clutching her scratched elbow to her chest.

Charlotte walked to her and gently brought the girl to her feet, checking her for any other injuries, before whirling to glare at the group. They spent minutes bickering and exchanging insults back and forth, until the leader seemed to have enough and made an effort to push her to the side—she stood her ground though. Charlotte remembered him trying to make up lies about the poor little girl behind her, but she called him off and confronted him, a lot of students were watching. Furious, the burly boy advanced on her, cracking her knuckles threateningly, when the back of his trousers suddenly caught on fire—and the onlookers had no one else to blame but the brown-haired girl sending a death glare at the panicked boy.

From that day forwards, everyone one kept their distance from her, even the ones she called friends. They were scared of her. That only got worse at her third burst of magic, when she made a boy – one of the bullies' group – that was about to hit her for what she did to his friend, trip rather strangely over nothing, breaking his wrist, while she stood still only a few steps away.

That was when the insults began. The chorus of ' _freak_ ' and ' _witch_ ' started to get to her—even though they had no idea of how right they were about the latter.

For many times, Remus questioned if she didn't want to change schools—she appreciated, but denied each time. Charlotte had a feeling that she would be treated like that no matter where she was.

Ms. Parker, too, wasn't a great help at all with the situation.

The dyed brunette woman gave no attention to the problem, pretending not to see the whispering and the many paper balls being thrown across the class and hitting the desk where a fuming, yet noiseless girl sat.

Sometimes, Charlie believed the woman was internally enjoying her suffering—Ms. Parker never seemed to like her much, or maybe that's because she could tell the feeling was mutual. Anyhow, there was constantly a glint in her teacher's eyes—some kind of satisfaction as she looked at her lonely figure midst the glowering and sneering students.

Charlotte never said anything, of course, however her patience snapped when she once heard Ms. Parker actually agreeing with an older student, and accused her of being an attention-seeking prat involved with sorcery, who always to play the victim in the end. That was the reason why Charlie insulted her.

No one else knew about it, naturally.

Her family heard from the own smug bitch face what she said and Charlotte never denied anything. Most would have told their parents what really occurred—still, had Charlotte informed them what the teacher said about her, Remus would get all wolf-like and Andromeda would literally freak and barge straight into Ms. Parker's office, and curse her to death for even thinking of offending her precious granddaughter.

Charlotte had enough with a deceased mother and imprisoned father for a lifetime.

"Gotcha, Freddie!"

George's voice brought her back to the present. She was having to many flashbacks lately, she thought, before focusing on Trix again.

"Really—just call me Charlie."

The elf hesitantly nodded. "So what can Trix do for you?"

Charlotte looked over her shoulder. The boys were still ' _sword fighting_ ', but George now appear to be cheating – if one could cheat in a fake fight- because he'd got a cutting board from Merlin knows where and was using it as a shield, laughing at his twin's complains. After confirming they were, indeed, not paying attention to her, she signaled Trix to the corner, noticing the glimmer of expectation in the eyes staring up at her, before whispering.

"How good are you with cakes?"

oOo

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Charlotte, gratefully, was paired with Dean Thomas, and she seemed satisfied with that – better him than Seamus-, even if she was hopping to sit with Hermione. Ron, however, was the one to be working with her friend. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it — Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Dean was trying beside her, but like the others, he wasn't having much luck. " _Wingardium Leviosa_." The feather quavered slightly, but remained immobile on their table. He tried again, with no success. Charlotte patted his shoulder.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill, making Charlotte roll her eyes at him.

"You're saying it wrong," She heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa, make the 'gar' nice and long." "You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Charlie knew the ginger would regret that—knowing Hermione, she definitely would get the spell right.

 _Said and done._

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

A few students clapped at her success, other were staring enviously at the floating feather over their heads, their own were still and unmoving as a rock on their tables.

"Want to give it a try?" Dean asked her, pushing the feather directly in front of her. She looked at it and then at the muggleborn boy, whose eyebrow was raised in challenge—why not?

Charlie cleared her throat and pointed her wand firmly at the feather, then made the required move—pronouncing the words clearly, just like the professor instructed them to. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

At first, it did the same as when Dean tried, but after it started trembling, the feather jumped out of the desk and floated above their heads—though not as higher as Hermione's did. The dark-skinned boy gave her an impressed glance.

"Well done, Ms. Black—well done!" the small professor smiled animatedly over the pile of books, granting them ten points to the Gryffindor house for their success. Charlotte and Hermione shared a pleased look.

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

They left the Charms class chatting enthusiastically amongst themselves – most of them, anyway -, Charlotte and Hermione were standing at the back, talking about the class—Charlie complemented her friend for her achievement, to what she was quick to wave it off, ' _You did it too_ ', but Charlotte did not lay off, ' _yeah, but not as great as you did, 'Mione',_ she sang playfully noting the flushed cheeks of the girl, in embarrassment and pleasure at the praise.

The boys were only a few foots away from them—Harry, Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus walked in a slow pace as the redhead seemed to rant on about something while the others listened. He didn't seem to happy, either, if the grimace on his face was any clue. Charlotte had a good guess of the topic—it being just the girl walking alongside her.

The young Weasley was used to having Charlie as a smartass—she was his friend so he never minded, in fact, it proved to be really convenient to him because she was always good and fast with words and comebacks whenever they were in trouble. Mostly, when his mother was about to punish them for something the twins did – though, Charlotte helped them, most of the times. Not that Ron needed to know that.

With Hermione was another story. Charlie was his friend but she wasn't. Not that he had something against muggleborns, because he didn't, however, there was just something about her that apparently made his blood boil with distaste—the way she carried herself like she was smarter than everyone else—than him. Ron didn't like it—and made sure everybody knew it too.

As the two girls got closer to the group, Charlie finally could hear bits of their conversation – though it could not be really called that because Ron was the only one speaking -, and it wasn't anything nice. She tried to focus her attention on Hermione, hoping her friend hadn't heard any of that. She didn't seem too, thankfully, as she still went on about chapter four of _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_ that she read beforehand—that is, until she stopped to breathe and Ron spoke loudly enough, not bothering to notice them walking just behind them

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Charlotte couldn't believe he would say something so harsh like that—it was true that Ron tended to be very insensitive most of the times, but that was totally overblown. She caught a glimpse of Hermione's face as she ran past the boys, knocking into Harry as she hurried away — and was startled to see that she was in tears. " _Hermione!"_

Worried, the girl called out for her friend while she watched Hermione's figure disappearing amidst the crowd of students.

"I think she heard you." Harry, too, was observing as the bushy-haired girl walked away.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

The other boys were doing signs at him to stop talking as they saw her behind the redhead. A sharp sting in his left forearm came as soon as he finished, Ron turned around ready to scream ' _bloody murder'_ at whoever it was, though he instantly swallowed his words and blanched at the sight of a fuming Black with killing intent emanating from her.

"You, Ronald Weasley," she pressed her finger into his chest drawing a pained yelp from him as he tried to step back and away from the angry girl. "are the most inconsiderate and ridiculous being ever—and that's saying something because I have Malfoy for cousin! How could you say that? The only thing I asked for was for you to act civil towards each other, and what have you done? Insulted her at the first opportunity just because you're jealous of her."

"I'm not jealous of her— "

"Oh, spare me, Ronald. It's pretty obvious – and stupid – if you must know. Hermione may not be perfect, but she is my friend—my _best_ friend, in fact, and if you can accept that than I did wrong in befriending you. You should know by now that I don't like people that fight over petty reasons such as this— "

"I'm sorry, alright?" Ron was fidgeting under her scrutinizing gaze, feeling to ashamed to look her in the eyes as his face slowly colored. The others were standing awkwardly not quite knowing if they should intervene or not—in the end they just decided to keep silent. It would do no good to have Charlotte turn her anger at them too.

She shook her head disapprovingly. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Ron. I don't know if you think she has no feelings or something like that, but she is truly hurt by what you've said."

Charlotte heaved in a sigh, running her hand through her loose dark locks in an attempt to calm herself. If she was being honest, she wasn't that angry with Ron—with all of the competition he had at home with his others six siblings, things could be more than just difficult. She assumed that he might have been feeling the need to step out of his older brothers' shadows—do something to prove his worth. Nonetheless, that didn't mean he could lash out at Hermione whenever he felt like it only because he was too lazy to work as hard as she did.

She always loved Ron like her little brother – though she was only a month older – and would protect and help him when he needed, however, she would not stick up for him when he was acting like such a child.

Recalling the reason to their arguing, Charlotte decided to look for her friend. There was no way she was leaving Hermione to weep on her own the whole day.

"I'm going to look for Hermione." She was already turning around to walk away when she heard Ron.

"Aren't you staying with us for dinner?"

"No," she snapped at him, seeing the boy wince at her harshness, yet she didn't feel guilty. He deserved it. "If you want me to so much as look your way anymore, Ron, then you _have to_ apologize to her first." And he knew she meant it.

Saying that, she turned on her heels and left them to search for her distressed friend.

oOo

Disappointingly, it was easier said than done. Charlotte tried all the possible places where Hermione could have run to, but each time with no success. She tried the grounds, the Great Hall, the common room and her dormitory, but she was in none of the places. Charlie even tried the Library and it ended with the same result. She marched straight to Madam Prince – the librarian- who was almost as strict as Professor McGonagall about order and silence. Charlotte assumed that was why the woman shoed her from the place right after she demanded – rather loudly – if she haven't seen the bushy-haired girl. According to Madam Prince, _'Miss Granger didn't show up here today. Now off you go, Ms. Black'_ as she dragged Charlotte out of the Library for disturbing the reading students.

That only served to let Charlie more worried about her friend, because Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. That is, until she overheard her roommates dialog as Parvati Patil telling Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone.

Wasting no time, Charlie ran all the way to the room, completely missing Harry and Ron as they passed each other at the corridor—she had something else to do.

Her hand pushed the door open and quietly strode into the bathroom and looked around. There was no one there. Maybe Parvati was wrong and Hermione went back to the dorm, she thought, but dismissed it as she heard sniffling coming from one of the stalls.

"Hermione?"

There was no response and Charlotte tried again. Still nothing.

She sighed, lifting a hand to knock on the small cubicle. "Hermione, please."

" _Go away._ "

Came from the other side of the door, the way Hermione's voice broke at the end was enough to squeeze Charlotte's heart. Ron was so going to pay for that.

"I'm not going anywhere. Open the door."

" _Please go away, Charlie."_

"Only when you talk to me—until then I'll wait right here, even if I have to sit here the whole day." Hermione didn't say anything after that and Charlotte groaned. "Talk to me."

Hermione only kept crying.

"He is wrong, you know. I wouldn't listen to Ron—he just feeling jealous because you're way smarter than he is," Silence. "Hermione—"

" _But he was telling the truth…_ " She spoke so silently that Charlotte almost didn't hear her.

"What are you— "

"No one likes me, Charlie. Everybody thinks the same—that I'm just an annoying know-it-all. Maybe they are right. That's why I have no friends."

Charlotte was feeling flabbergasted. All this time she had been such ignorant to Hermione's feelings, too caught up on her own life. That was so selfish of her. For how long had her friend been thinking like that? And why hadn't she notice earlier?

Choosing her words carefully, the girl closed her eyes and exhaled, bringing her hand to the stall door as she sat on the ground against it, hoping Hermione would just listen to her.

"Look, 'Mione… I'll tell you something I learned over the years. It doesn't matter if you're the most beautiful, clever, amazingly perfect person in the world. People will always find a flaw in you, no matter how many times you try to be the greatest you can. If I were to hide and cry each time someone made a bad remark about me, I would spend my entire life locked in my room. Trust me."

The sudden rush of memories flowed through her mind.

"Every so often you'll feel like they are right about you—that you're worthless. You will close up to the world until one day you realize that every single people that has ever hurt you, didn't know you at all. They don't know of your insecurities or qualities—they only see what they want to see. Then you'll ask yourself if was worth it… wasting your time suffering with their lies, forgetting the one thing we should truly be doing. Living."

She pronounced the words, recalling the time when she was just as broken and distraught as Hermione was right now. It was like it was happening all over again—only instead of her, Remus would be the one saying sweet words as she wept in her pillow because everyone seemed to hate her for no reason.

"You're special, Hermione. No matter what the others say, I'll always be your best friend—even if you constantly drag me to Library when all I want is to go sleep," she cracked in a joke, smiling to herself as she heard a soft laugh coming from the other side. "Forget what Ron said about you. And don't worry—when I see him later, I'll kick his—whoa"

She shrieked as she felt her body falling the moment the door started opening. To her luck, she caught herself at the last minute, otherwise she would have a nasty wound the next morning. Propping herself on her elbows, Charlotte glanced up to meet a girl with puffy, red eyes and wild hair, watching as she brought the end of her sleeves to wipe the trail of tears off her face. She stood up and all but engulfed Hermione in a hug, glad that she finally came out.

The muggleborn girl returned the embrace tightly, her crying had stopped, but she was still sniffling a bit. "Thank you, Charlie."

"I only told you the truth, 'Mione." They slowly let go of each other, their arms falling to their side. Hermione firmly looked into Charlotte's grey-hazel eyes.

"No—thanks for being here. For being my friend."

Charlotte grinned at her. "Always."

oOo

It was dinnertime when Charlotte decided to walk to the Great Hall. After almost an entire hour sitting against the wall, talking, they were feeling very hungry. Hermione wasn't ready to face the others yet, so she didn't come along. Therefore, Charlotte left her friend at the bathroom but promised to return shortly with some food—she wasn't thinking if joining the boys, especially Ron, at all. Not when he was the reason why her friend was currently hiding inside a bathroom stall, crying her eyes out.

She ran downstairs just in time; dinner would be served any minute now. The big oak door opened with a loud sound as entered and she strode past the hundreds of talking students, including Parvati and Lavender, and took a set between the Weasley twins.

While she waited for the food to appear, she noticed the decoration around her. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Not wasting time, she grabbed two plates and started filling it with something she knew Hermione would like—her friend wasn't like Ron - the human food-vacuum-, and although she didn't exactly reject a few baked little pies once in a while, she usually would choose something more… healthy.

Merlin knows why.

As stated by Hermione herself, the whole thing began because her parents were dentists and wanted their daughter to have strong and well-cared teeth. No junk food, no problems. Poor Hermione.

She was pilling food on her own plate, not feeling the eyes staring her way. At least not until someone pointed it out.

"Why are Ron staring at you like you just stole his favorite toy?" Charlotte barely glance up, but nevertheless replied to Fred, her tone slight snappy. Not towards him, of course.

"Because Ron is an idiot and selfish prat that doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut!" her fist pounded the edge of the Gryffindor table, angrily, making the people close to her jump in surprise and withdraw from the seething girl. With a temper like hers, no one thought wise to bother her further or ask for an explanation.

Well... with the exception of said boy. Unfortunately.

Sitting a few rows away from them, Ron was trying to get her attention by waving his right hand frantically—he looked uncomfortable. And so did Harry.

The boy known as the boy-who-lived had a grimace on his face as he watched the pointless efforts of his redheaded friend to catch Charlotte's attention. He was feeling bad for Ron at the moment. Harry knew the boy didn't mean to make Hermione cry, but he was on Charlie's side on this one – he never said anything, obviously.

Even if Ron had no intention of making her cry, Harry knew the boy was being mean on purpose, though he did not understand why. Evidently, Hermione could be really nosy and bossy at the times, but she wasn't that bad. And above all, she was Charlotte's best friend. How Ron thought he could get away with that was something Harry didn't comprehend.

"Are you coming to the common room with us, Charlie?"

"No, Ronald. If you didn't notice dinner just started," She snarled. "Besides, I'm not staying for long—I'm taking this to Hermione, because she still didn't want to come, thanks to you."

His face turned red as he scratched the back of his neck and spluttered nervously. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to— "

"Don't even start. I already told you I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." And she refused to speak another word to him for the rest of the meal.

Fred and George shared a look with their friend Lee and threw a questioning glance at Harry behind Charlotte's back, though the black-haired boy could only shrug his shoulders in response, staring at a gloomy ginger boy with apologetic eyes.

"She will come around, Ron." Harry whispered to his friend when Charlotte wasn't paying attention, so she didn't hear anything. Ron gave him a halfhearted smile and nodded.

Barely ten minutes later, Charlotte finished eating, her dish had only a few peas left at the corner – she loathed it with a passion -, and she grabbed Hermione's that she already loaded with food, then seized an appetizing looking pudding from amidst the desserts that were just served.

The girl decided to ignore all the strange looks she was receiving as she walked past the Gryffindor table and left with a plate in her hand and a backpack in the other, and took off to meet Hermione. The poor girl made through the day without a single meal—she must have been starving.

oOo

Even after many persistent attempts of Charlotte for Hermione to leave the bathroom, her friend was really stubborn. She stopped crying long ago, but the humiliation and hurt still burned in her mind. Perhaps that was why they were eating there, sitting on the stone floor with their backs against the walls, using their legs as support while they ate. Not very sanitary, Charlotte thought.

"…I was thinking of going home for Christmas, you know," Hermione told her between her last bites, then put the empty plate on the ground next to her. "You're welcome to come along if you like, of course. I know that is almost two months away, but I guess it would be better to go…"

Charlotte drowned out the rest of her sentence when a foul stench reached her nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. Hermione didn't seem to notice, though—she kept talking, oblivious that her friend wasn't listening. The unpleasant smell apparently was getting stronger and Charlie could not fathom how her bushy-haired friend wasn't sensing it yet.

"...and don't even get me started on my father. I once asked him to get a look at my teeth, him being a dentist and everything. I think they are too big, so normally I wanted it a bit trimmed—my father refused right away and— "

" _Hermione._ "

"Huh—what?" She was so busy babbling that she only afterwards she realized Charlie whitened and was pointing her finger wildly at the bathroom's door, and when the muggleborn turned she understood why.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

A high, petrified scream came from the girl next to Charlotte, but the girl herself could not even muster a tiny shriek of her own. Her whole body was frozen and she didn`t think she could move her legs even if she ordered them to. Goosebumps came to her arms that had nothing to do with the cold air in the room.

Meanwhile, Hermione was shrinking against the wall, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went. In the same moment, Harry and Ron came barging into the chamber—they heard the screaming, no doubt.

They looked at each other fearfully and Charlie grabbed Hermione's wrist and pushed her behind her—she rather something happening to her than her friends.

The troll sauntered towards then, his huge feet dragging some of the debris along, and then swung his bat at them. "Get down!"

At her scream, the boys dropped to the ground – even though they were a few foots away from the girls -, and Charlotte grasped Hermione by her shoulder and brought her down.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione and Charlotte. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

Checking her pockets, Charlie could not find her wand. She had a spell in mind that she could use against the troll but obviously could not do that without her bloody wand. Becoming a bit –lot- panicked, she started to look around trying to locate her wand while she kept an eye open in case the troll attacked them.

Finally, she found her wand just beside her bag laying under the wreckages that once was a ceramic sink, and away from the door. The problem was that she would have to cross the room to get it, with the risk of turning into a pancake by the hands, or feet, of the stinking creature.

For now, it seemed like the boys were on their own.

That wasn't good.

"Come on, run, _run_!" Harry yelled at Hermione while beckoning Charlotte to help him. They were trying to pull her toward the door, but Hermione couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

"Hermione, come on!" Charlotte bellowed.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped — it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Charlotte watched the scene with wide eyes, her fear rescinding a little. Her godfather already realized that pattern of hers. It didn't matter if they were in a potentially dangerous situation, if Charlotte saw something that she deemed bizarre or strange, she would just start to calm down from her fright.

Some people – mostly Nymphadora- saw this as her being courageous, Charlotte, on the other hand, saw this as her being completely insane, not to mention stupid.

"I don't know whether to feel absolutely shocked because Harry just jumped onto a _freaking_ troll or disgusted by well…that." She stared at Harry's wand inside of the Troll's nostril.

That was bloody revolting. Boogers. Yuck.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Oh-oh. Merlin.

"Harry!"

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright, but Charlotte made her stand up and together, the two ran towards Ron. The ginger boy pulled out his own wand — not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Charlotte watched as the club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over — and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it — dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

"Nice going, Ron." The said boy blushed and smile, taking notice Charlotte had called him Ron and not Ronald—maybe she wasn't angry at him anymore and they could be friends again. He was happy she was talking to him after the cold shoulder she gave him the whole day.

Harry bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh — troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers. "You better wash this later, Harry." Came the sickened voice of Charlotte as he did that. "Gross."

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Charlotte and Harry. Charlotte had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from her mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look and Charlotte an even colder one, if that was possible, probably thinking she was the one who caused all of that, what wasn't the case, for once. She glared back at him. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"'Mione…what are you— "

"I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I've read all about them." She interrupted Charlie.

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Charlie tried to stop me, but I wouldn't listen to her. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them. Charlotte on the other hand—

"But that was not your—"

"It's alright Charlie. You don't have to lie for me."

"Hermione—"

"Really."

Charlotte huffed. She saw what Hermione was doing. Her friend was taking the blame for them when she did nothing wrong, and Charlie didn't like it. However, she said no more. She would talk with Hermione in their dorm.

"Well — in that case . . ." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

 _I'll see you later._ Charlotte mouthed to the muggleborn girl.

Hermione nodded and left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Charlotte, Harry and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go. Oh… and Ms. Black? Try to stay out of trouble. Remus asked me to keep an eye on you."

Charlotte groaned. " _Moony…_ Alright, Professor McGonagall." She would have a few words with her godfather when she got home. That traitor. The woman smiled, almost imperceptibly, at the pouty expression on the girl's face.

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we _did_ save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

"Correction: She might not have needed saving if Ms. Jealous pants here hadn't insult her in first place, because she would be at the Feast with us." Charlotte said with sarcasm, sending not so subtle glances at Ron.

"I said I was sorry."

She ignored his whining and choose to walk in front of them. "And I already told you what to do."

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Charlotte cleared her throat and stared at them expectantly. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

"I spent months trying to make you get along, and it took a troll to make it work. Seriously?" Charlotte complained to them as they made themselves comfortable in a small table by the window. Harry and Ron were still eating while the girls waited for them to finish.

"What can I say? The nearly death experience can bring people close." Ron and Charlotte made amends again after he apologized to Hermione, so he was back to his usual cheery self. "I'm still trying to decide what's scarier: fighting a troll or trying to steal chocolate from you. You can end up dead in both situations."

He joked about her unconditional love for chocolate. He wasn't wrong, actually.

Harry, Ron and Hermione started chuckling at her fake offended face. "Very funny, Ron." Though a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth, and before she noticed, the four of them were laughing together.

From that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend—a part of their group. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

oOo


	10. Quidditch

**Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I'm so sorry, guys. Four freaking months without updating! I bet most of you thought i wouldn't post anymore, but just to let you know, i'll NEVER abandon my fics. It might take a while, but I'll definitely update. Well, I had a few problems with college, problems at home, last week I had problems with my schedule and I've started working. So... Yeah. I just want to thank everyone who's still reading this kkkk I hope I'm doing a good job. Enjoy the chapter and leave comments. :)  
**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 9 – Quidditch**

.

As she laid on her bed in Halloween night – trying to avoid being killed by a stinking, vicious troll could make people really worn-out -, she wondered how her godfather was fairing. With all the rush that day brought, Charlotte almost forgot that Halloween wasn't merely a holiday full of fun and laugher.

The only thing that came to her mind was that Remus was hidden somewhere in their house, all alone, while feeling miserable with the memories of his deceased friends. The girl had half mind to turn back and run away from Hogwarts the next day, and go home, not wanting her guardian suffering for something he wasn't to blame for.

Nonetheless, apparently Charlotte was too predictable, at least to him, because in that morning, Maurice delivered a letter to her when she was having breakfast at the Great Hall. It was Remus'. It said that he was doing just fine so she had no reason to worry about. And he, at last, found a job—yet he never said where or doing what.

It did little to quell her anxiousness, though. What if something come to him and he just leave the cottage and end up hurt? She knew that Remus had a strange habit of running out of the door out of nowhere when he was feeling constricted, whether physically or emotionally.

When she received his letter, she suddenly recalled she had something to ask him. So she owled him back, saying that she was glad he was alright, but to contact the Tonks whenever he was feeling… well, down. It would be good for him to have some kind of company, and Charlie was sure Andromeda and Ted – and Dora -would welcome him with open arms if he ever needed anything.

She didn't mention much about his new job, only telling him how she was happy he finally found something to do. If Remus didn't tell her anything about it in his letter was because he really didn't want to or couldn't. Whatever the reason, it would be best for them to talk in person.

And finally, Charlotte requested Remus to search in the attic for their old box full of souvenirs. She recollected – even though she had no idea how, since she was just a little child at the time – her mother and Remus moving some stuff into a big strongbox as she only sat on her chubby legs by the window, watching them work.

One of the things they put in there was a navy blue family album with a leather strap at the middle—and that's what she wanted.

At first, she was kind of hesitant to ask for it, since it could spark some undesirable memories in Remus seeing all those old pictures of people who left his life too soon. Perhaps it wouldn't be nice to force her godfather to relive such bad things, she thought for a moment.

But no…

Every time Remus was in his gloomy mood, little Charlotte realized the subtle changes in his demeanor, his smile and the softening of his eyes, whenever someone accidentally talked about his years as a Marauder or all the troubles James or Sirius got themselves into.

It was like he went into a daze as his lips pulled up—the age lines on his face lessened and he seemed so much younger than his usual dejected self. It was a nice sight for everyone who spent enough time with the man and knew how much he hurt and kept bottled up within him.

That's what made her decide to ask him about the box. Charlotte wrote she needed the album as soon as possible, preferably with his answer, in hopes that he would take it all away from inside it and finally get over the guilt and suffering, and find some peace in his heart and mind.

She kept her fingers crossed.

oOo

At least something good came from Halloween. Hermione and the boys were getting along fairly well. Of course there still had the usual bicker between Ron and Hermione, but they weren't grimacing whenever they saw each other anymore—that was definitely a progress.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the House Championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow – Charlotte was almost sure the twins were involved -, and Harry didn't know which was worse — people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress, although Charlie reassured him that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let anything harm him—much.

…

Even if Ron would rather eat a pack full of cockroaches than admit it, it was obvious the boys were getting more cheerful ever since they befriended Hermione. They had gone as far as to include her in the conversation when they were talking about their beloved Quidditch—Harry and Ron knew the girl wasn't really a fan of the game, but she was obviously pleased for their effort.

As the weeks passed by, the teachers loaded them with assignments to last the whole month, and Hermione, being… well, Hermione, dragged Charlotte and the boys to the library to start as soon as possible, not listening or ignoring, most probably the latter, the whining she gained in return.

It was worth it, though.

They didn't know how they'd have gotten through all their homework without her help, especially Harry who was worrying over all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do.

Charlotte helped them with Potions and Transfiguration, but she was an absolute failure in History of Magic. Who needed that, anyway? It was really hard to pay attention to the lecture when your teacher was an ancient ghost whose voice could make anyone fall asleep in two seconds short. She had spelled her quill to write down everything Professor Binns said, though it wasn't much of a help because, even with the notes, her brain just seemed to shut down every time she tried to understand it.

So Hermione was officially, at least at Charlie's terms, her new non-paid tutor at the insufferable class. The boys, of course, took total advantage of that fact.

The bushy haired girl was also being very supportive, and lent Harry _Quidditch Through the Ages._

Harry and Charlotte sat together for hours discussing it, even though she already knew it by heart, as she explained more of the game, starting a full speech about it that made Harry understand why she was such great friends with Hermione. Her grey-hazel eyes glistened with excitement as she told him that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert. Almost word by word from the book.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Ron and Charlotte – even if said girl had denied and told her countless of this that she was just as helpless as her friend - had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Charlotte, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty – and glaring, in Charlie's case - faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

The Black girl in the group just stared openmouthed at him, not believing he was using such ridiculous excuse to get them into trouble, just because the greasy bat didn't like them. She propped her hands on her knees, getting ready to stand up from the grass and insult him to her heart's content, however, Hermione, who was sitting at her left side, pull her back, rather forcefully, might I add, and slowly shook her head.

"He just— "

"Be quiet."

"But he can't just—mm…" The boys watched as Hermione quickly brought her hand to the other girl's mouth to shut her up. It would be definitely amusing if Snape wasn't still regarding them coldly, before throwing one last look at Charlotte, a scornful one, turning back on his heel and leaving, Harry's book still clutched in his pale hand.

They waited until his figure had completely disappeared from sight, before exchanging sighs of relief and looking at each other. Hermione let her hand fall away from Charlie's face the same time the latter mumbled something about the man that most definitely wasn't a compliment.

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"Ditto,"

Charlotte tugged at the end of her dark locks in an irritated manner. What was about Snape that made her so snappy and angry with so much as a single glance from him? She could normally be a bad-tempered girl, but she never reacted that badly with anyone else—except, perhaps, Draco.

She didn't dwell in it further, though.

"How many points do you think I would lose if I steal the book back and run for it?" Came her playful words, though she was seriously considering it.

"Don't even think about— "

"Twenty."

"Twenty and a detention." Ron grinned at her, adding to Harry's words. The young Potter, too, was smiling at her attempt to light up the mood.

That was one of the things the boys liked the most on her—no matter the situation, Charlotte would always try to make them feel better. Even if that meant to make a fool of herself or end up in trouble.

Harry knew she would do whatever she put her mind to in a heartbeat, and if she really wanted to run like a mad woman – well, girl – and take his book from their evil teacher's clutches, then she would, no matter how many times someone try to convince her otherwise.

" _Harry! Ron!_ She'll do nothing of the sort!"

"Relax a bit, Hermione, we're just joking."

"Referring to our teachers like that isn't funny, Ronald! It could get us into trouble. _Again_." She retorted at him, however there wasn't a trace of malice in her words. She was just stating a fact. The muggleborn girl then whirled to the right, her full hair bouncing back and hitting the ginger boy right in the face to what he was fast to complain and sit farther from Hermione. "And _you—_ "

Putting on an innocent face, Charlie stared back at her.

"You really should stop trying to anger him, Charlie. He's our teacher no matter how much you don't like him, and you're supposed to respect him. Perhaps if you tried enough and put some effort in his assignments," the other three rolled their eyes at that, but Hermione didn't notice, or pretended not to. "Then Professor Snape wouldn't be onto you as much—"

"'Mione," Charlotte interrupted her, giving the other the opportunity to catch her breath. "I appreciate the concern, really, I do. But nothing will make him like me. You saw what happen in our first class. He snapped at both Harry and I for no reason—you did see it. I just was defending myself."

She gave a brief pause.

"Besides, I don't think he would be any better with us, _even_ if I _hadn't_ said anything. Oh, whatever… it's not like I care if I'm his favorite student either, because he most definitely isn't my favorite teacher."

Harry mutely nodded in agreement and Ron followed suit. Hermione spared them a glance before sighing.

"Alright… maybe he isn't completely fair—" This time, Charlotte gave her a look as if to say ' _Are you kidding me?_ ' and Hermione quickly correct herself. "Okay. He's not fair at all with you,"

"Thank you!"

" _However_ — "

The brown haired girl groaned in annoyance, bringing her knees to her chest and propped her elbows on them, resting her cheeks against her hands. This talk was getting on her nerves and she resisted the urge to snap at Hermione.

"As I was saying," the other continued, ignoring the brooding the girl beside her and the boys who were looking between the two girls like in a tennis match. "I think you should, at best, avoid any conflicts with him—if he says something, just ignore it and don't talk back. I don't want you getting expelled for disrespecting a superior.

Charlotte knew Professor Dumbledore would never expel anyone for that—the man believed in solving things peaceful and rationally. The most he would do was owl Remus – or Andromeda, in the worst scenario – and take away a few points or give her a detention. Expelling was too extreme.

Nonetheless, Hermione was right about one thing. She really had to stop her quarrels with Snape—as amusing as it was to make him angry, it was getting truly exhausting. Maybe if she ignored him, as Hermione said, Snape would back off and stop treating her like an unpleasant flobberworm.

So she just nodded at her friend to say she understood. The others started looking at her, surprised that she accepted it that easily, and Hermione studied her suspiciously.

" _What?_ I can behave if I want to, you know." Charlotte gathered her things from the ground, seizing her bag and strapping it around her shoulder while she held two thick, hard-covered books in her left hand. "Might as well start right now, right? Don't we still have a last homework to finish?"

She directed the last question to Hermione, already knowing that the boys never paid too much attention in class, so it would be useless to ask them anything about it.

Hermione stood up in a jump, eyes wide and frantic expression, as she did the same as Charlie, grabbing her things as fast as she could. "I can't believe I forgot about it! Harry! Ron! Come on, we need to go."

The two shared looks before glancing at Charlotte, but the girl merely shrugged and mentioned for them to do as Hermione said.

"'Mione, calm down, the assignment isn't due till next week—"

"Not enough time then—we should have finished it ages ago. What would Professor Flitwick think?" She ranted. "That was your fault, you know? You three should be studying hard like I am, but instead, you are too occupied with anything related to Quidditch to worry about your education."

"You're not studying hard enough if you've forgotten about an assignment, aye' Hermione?"

Ron tried to make light of the situation, although it only served to add more fuel to the fire as the girl turned to him with a death-glare. Obviously, Hermione needed to tone her know-it-all streak down a bit.

The fuming girl stalked to the boys, Harry being smart and quick enough to scurry to Charlotte's side and out of reach, however the Weasley boy, not being so lucky, had his arm clenched by Hermione, and was dragged all the way to the other two that were watching the scene feeling sorry for the ginger.

" _Bloody hell, woman! You're gonna tear my arm off!_ "

"Shush, Ronald."

Then she proceeded to walk to the castle, Ron whining and complaining behind her all the way. Charlotte chuckled to herself. She had such crazy friends—though she would never complain. Everyone had to put up with her craziness as well, so…

She intertwined her arm with Harry's, and he was gentle enough to carry her books for her ( _It seemed cavalry wasn't dead, yet_ ) before they began walking a few steps behind the other two, all the while observing amusedly the bickering between their friends as they stepped inside the castle.

oOo

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Charlotte, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Ron's Charms homework for him while Charlie did the same to Harry's. Hermione would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

The sound of scribbling reached her ears as their quills padded across the parchment making her groan low in annoyance in her place, though it went unnoticed with all of the voices speaking at once at the background. Someone to her left was clearly playing Exploding Snap, Charlotte observed, as she listened a card blowing up every now and then.

When she finally reached the last line of her two-feet essay about at least five standard spells and its effects she breathed in relief and began collecting her things and drawing them back to her bag. Charlie closed her ink bottle and rolled her parchment carefully as not to crumple the paper, then she cracked her knuckle to relieve some of the pain.

Just as she was about to stand up, Charlotte turned to her side and saw Harry fidgeting awkwardly in his seat—he looked impatient for some reason and ready to bolt out of the place at any instant.

"…what about the fire-making spell, Hermione?"

"I said I would help you with the essay, not do it for you—alright… Ron, there's no _'u'_ in incedio, for Godric's sake!"

Charlotte drowned out the two of them, and sent her dark haired friend a worried look, wondering what got him into such a mood all of a sudden.

"Harry? Everything alright?"

Getting up from the chair she was occupying only seconds before, the girl dropped next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Ron and Hermione stopped talking the moment Charlotte spoke, and they were also staring at Harry with worry and curiosity on their faces.

"The game is tomorrow and I really want the Quidditch book back—"

"And you want to go ask Snape for it." It was more of a statement than a question.

Harry gave her a sheepish look. "I know he won't give it to me, but if someone came along…"

Charlotte shook her head, chuckling softly to herself, bringing her sketchbook out and opening in a blank page. She leaned on the arm of the couch and tried to think of something to draw—a third-year girl petting a russet owl caught her attention and she started drawing the scene.

The others understood what he was implying, and Ron and Hermione shared a glance almost instantly.

"Better you than me," they said together making the boy sigh in defeat, before turning to his last hope. Noting the sudden silence that took over them, Charlie looked up from her sketchbook, only to see three sets of eyes staring back at her. She slowly put her pencil down.

"What?"

No one gave her a response, but they threw a meaningful look her way.

"Are you serious?" A whine left her lips and she was about to refuse, though one single glance at the kicked puppy expression on her friend's face were enough to make her do a double take. It became obvious to her that it was important to Harry, otherwise he would never ask. Only Merlin knows how nervous he was with his first game ever being only a few hours away—she would be a pile of nerves, no doubt.

Her sketch laid forgotten at the side as she stood up lazily and fixed her uniform—Charlie snapped her book shut and tucked inside her bag with the rest of her stuff. A strand of hair came out of her loose bun and fell in front of her eyes before she softly pushed it away.

"Alright—I'll go with you. Although I warn you beforehand that this won't work. Slimy Snape hates me, remember? Just saying…" She told Harry.

" _Charlie!_ You promised you would stop insulting him!" Hermione chastised her, shaking her head.

The girl smirked at her.

"No, I promised to _try_ and stop fighting with him. But I can't see him here right now, can you? This doesn't count, Hermione." She added before her muggleborn could retort, gaining an annoyed huff in return that Charlotte just shrugged off.

Then she walked to a waiting Harry and grabbed his forearm in her hand and all but dragged him to the portrait. "By the way, Harry, if he doesn't give you back I could always steal it from him."

And they were gone before they could hear the protests coming from Hermione and the amused snickers from Ron.

oOo

"Are you sure you okay, Harry?"

Charlotte regarded him closely— every once in a while he would tighten his hands into fists or run them nervously in his already messy hair, not to mention the fact that he seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheeks. It was getting unnerving actually.

"Yeah—I'm fine." He swallowed but couldn't quite meet her eyes.

"Come on, Harry. We're best friends, right? You can tell me what's wrong."

A noticeable flush appeared on his cheeks as he looked a bit embarrassed. It was in reality both entertaining and adorable at the same time, but the thought vanished from her mind as soon as it came when Charlie heard his confession.

"I'll be playing in front of the whole school tomorrow—what if I do something stupid? And the idea of falling off of my broom isn't very appealing either." The poor boy was panicking and Charlotte kind or agreed with his fearful thinking, though she wouldn't tell him, of course. Last thing she wanted was to be the reason he had a panic attack before his very first game. "I don't know why I even wanted to be on the team, I shouldn't be playing—maybe I could talk to Wood and say this was a big mistake— "

"Hey!" A hard poke on his side shut him up. "You're not giving up right now,"

"I can't do this, Charlie…"

She sighed. "Yes, you can. Look—when we came to Hogwarts you were afraid this was all a big mistake and that you shouldn't be here. You admitted to Ron and I that you thought you would be behind everyone else because you're new to all this 'magic' thing."

"I don't understand what that— "

"You were wrong because you were scared. Even with everything you thought it would happen… look at you now. You're our first-year seeker, Harry. There hasn't been one in centuries! Not Malfoy. Not Ron. Not even me. You! All of us grew up with magic, but you're the one who got the spot."

They had stopped walking by now and she came to stand in front of him.

"Tomorrow you'll play and you will be great at it, trust me. You're talented, Harry." She paused and gave him a bright smile, one he could not help but return. Surprisingly he was feeling better. "Besides, it's okay to be nervous. Everyone gets nervous sometimes—if it makes you feel better, I'll be cheering for you the whole time."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"No problem."

He shook his head, his glasses askew with the move and he brought his hand up to his face to fix it. "No, really—thank you." She didn't answer, but the smile on her face conveyed she was glad for helping him.

With that, they started walking again.

It was only five minutes after that they finally got at Snape's location. They made their way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. Charlotte knocked again. Nothing. She was getting impatient.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try, after all, she did tell Harry she would get his book back one way or another. She pushed the door ajar – even with Harry protesting beside her not to do it - and peered inside — and a horrible scene met their eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Charlotte's eyes were fixed in the scene before her—her mouth fall open with shock. Three heads? Godric… Snape was trying to pass through that giant, vicious dog. Did he have a death wish?

The two kids held in a breath, fearing to do some noise to alert the adults of their presence, and carefully took a step back, exiting the place. Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but —

"POTTER! BLACK!"

"Oops. Busted."

The comment was not appreciated by the other occupants in the room as she let out a nervous chuckle. Harry was trembling beside her, and this time Charlie knew it had nothing to do with the Quidditch game—more to the fact that Snape was downright glaring at them with surprise and hatred. The first because he obviously was caught doing something he shouldn't.

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Charlotte stood still as stone and Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! _OUT_!"

"We just wanted— "

Harry all but dragged her away not giving her time to finish, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. They could feel their heartbeats racing with adrenaline as they sprinted back upstairs.

The moment they reached the Gryffindor common room, Charlie managed to quickly say ' _Pig Snout_ ' to the Fat Lady, and the two rushed inside when the portrait opened.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as soon as Charlotte and Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen. Charlie dropped down on the couch beside Hermione and Harry followed suit, sitting on the chair by the fireplace.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick _he_ let that troll in, to make a diversion!" Hermione's eyes were wide.

"Or he told it could be fun to make some innocent students troll food—wouldn't put past him…"

Charlotte muttered.

"No — he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron.

"Hate to say it, but… I kind of agree with Hermione on this."

Three heads turned to her. Two in shock and the other in appreciation.

"What? Are you bloody mad, Charlie?"

"I'm just saying… I don't like Snape, that's true. And he's a biased, greasy snake—that's true too—"

"The point…" Hermione looked at her like she was mental.

"Right. The point is… even if Snape is my least favorite person right now, I know for a fact that he wouldn't betray Dumbledore. Though it looked a bit suspicious, I admit. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore asked him to do it?" I was meant to be a statement, but came out as a question no one replied.

"Exactly." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Well—I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

oOo

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry looked terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field and it seemed nerves were getting the best of him—he actually looked ready to throw up. Charlotte observed him in silence. He didn't notice. His plate was clean and she was beginning to feel bad about him. He really didn't like the spotlight, did he?

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

"Nice going, Finnegan," a groan escaped her lips. "Don't listen to him, Harry. Toast?"

She waved a toast with blueberry jam on his face. He just shook his head.

"Come on, Harry. You have to eat something."

"I'm not hungry…" He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, a look of pure misery on his face.

Having enough, she set the toast on his place and slammed her hands on the table, catching his attention. Although he wasn't the only one. A few people around the Gryffindor table – and even some Hufflepuffs – jumped in their seats at the loud noise.

A few rows down, Fred and George had all but stopped talking to Lee and Wood, all of them watching at her like she was a madwoman.

"Fair Lady!"

"What are you—"

She lifted her hand to silence them and turned to her black-haired friend. "Harry Potter! I thought we were past this when we talked yesterday. I get that you're nervous but starving yourself won't help anything. What if you feel weak and pass out? You could fall from your broom. You don't want that, do you? So I suggest you stop the sulking and eat something."

She paused, and then a strangely too sweet smile adorned her face.

"Or I could just shove this toast down your throat. Your choice, really."

Charlie raised her hand in slow motion, going for the toast on his plate, as she stared at him ever so mockingly, as if to show him she wasn't kidding.

Not surprisingly at all, the toast disappeared from the plate. Harry was feeling better, to be honest. Though he would never tell her that—Charlie would make fun of him for all eternity. So he ate in silence, trying to ignore the triumphant grin on his friend's face—never mind the smile coming to his own lips.

oOo

Returning to the dormitory all by herself while everyone else was going to the Quidditch pitch wasn't nice at all—why she had to forget her scarf today? Not only that but her sweater wasn't doing a great job in warming her up. She had half mind to go without it, yet when she stepped outside the castle and the cold hit her skin through her clothing, goosebumps on her arms, Charlie knew she would have to go back.

And there's where she was right now, just in front the Fat Lady's portrait. She hastily told her the password and entered the common room. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who would be late for the game. A group of four boys were hanging around talking to each other. Since there wasn't anyone else in the place, she could clearly hear what they were saying, though she paid them no mind—that is, until one of them, a boy with brown hair, blue eyes and freckles, informed them he was going to the owlery to retrieve some package and it couldn't wait until the end of the game.

It was then that she recalled she had her own package to get. Remus would have sent it by now, she reckoned. Maurice hadn't appeared at breakfast—one thing she learned about her owl, was that sometimes he could be really lazy. Like really lazy. Nonetheless, she had no time to get warm clothes and go to the owlery.

Hmm…

"Hey!"

Four heads snapped in her direction as she walked closer to them. Charlotte noticed how they tensed slightly as they recognized her—she mentally rolled her eyes. They still thought she was a devil's spawn. Merlin.

"You're going to the owlery, right?" She asked the brown-haired boy even knowing the answer.

"Y-yeah."

Well. From what she could see, he was the shy of the group.

"What is it to you?" Another questioned, straightening himself trying to scare her off.

And cue to another eye roll.

Charlotte ignored them and fixed her attention on the shy boy that was cowering away. They were acting as if she had Dragon Pox.

"I already should be at the game, but I have to get something in my dorm—I have a package on the owlery, too. Could you get it for me? I don't think I'll have time to do it myself."

"Ah, of co— "

"No, he won't!" The same boy from before protested, his hazel eyes narrowed at her. "Who do you think—"

"I'll pay you two galleons."

And like that, he shut up. Charlotte wished she had done it since the beginning. He was starting to get on her nerves. The brunet boy had his eyes wide open—the others were staring at her as if to say ' _Are you kidding me?_ ' and she sighed before fumbling in her bag strapped to her shoulder.

In less than a minute, two big, golden coins were resting on her hand as she offered to the boys. "Here."

She set the galleons on his hand and stepped back.

"So… Can you get it for me?" She hoped he would agree, otherwise she would have lost two galleons for nothing. Not that she needed it anyways, but…

"Sure."

The boy finally smiled at her, a sincere one, and almost hesitantly extended his empty hand. "Mason Bryant."

"Charlotte Black."

oOo

She run downstairs in a haste. The game was about to start at any minute and she wouldn't want to be late for her best friend's first game. Charlotte was wearing a dark red jacket and the Gryffindor scarf was wrapped around her neck locking the back of her hair to her shoulders because she decided to wear it loose for the meantime.

The cold air didn't bother her anymore with the layers of clothing she was using as she hurried across Hogwarts to the Quidditch pitch, where she was to meet Mason. She certainly hoped he would be there already.

Her legs were aching, though Charlotte did not stop running even if her body was telling her to. From where she was, she could listen to the yells and cheers coming from the field—everyone was probably already there while she fighting to get in there in time.

When Charlotte was ready to drop to the ground and take a breath, Mason entered in her line sight, waving at her. She breathed in relief, walking slightly slower towards him—and his friends, she noticed, that were just behind the boy.

The three boys – that she learned were called Luke, Henry and William – were silent the whole time, only nodding at her in acknowledgement, but other than that, nothing. Not that she cared.

"Hi." She offered Mason with a smile that he returned.

"Hey—ah…here."

A wrapped bundle with the size of a big book was gently pushed in her arms. There was a note attached to it and she quickly read it.

 _I would ask you why, but I have a hunch already. Hope he likes it._

 _Ps.: Thank you, darling._

Charlotte beamed. She knew he would connect the dots—that's Remus for you.

A feeling of happiness and relief washed over her as she read the last line. Charlie was glad she did right in asking him to search the box. It was time her godfather had some sort of closure and move on.

"Thanks, Mason." She clutched the package to her chest, then shoved it carefully inside her backpack. It would be weird to go to a game with it, however she didn't want anyone seeing the package—Hermione and Ron would, for sure, start asking questions, and she wanted to keep it a secret for Harry until later.

"That's alright." He waved it off, going a bit pink around the ears. "See you around, Charlotte."

She held her hand up for him to shake it and he didn't take too long to do it. "Just call me Charlie." Throwing the bag strap over her shoulder, she grinned one last time at him and turned around—she was about to search for Hermione and the boys when a voice caught her attention.

"You're not so bad, Black."

Charlotte faced him and had to stop for a moment to see who spoke. After a few seconds, she finally recognized him Luke. He had tanned complexion, what was strange for someone from London. Although, she realized, he didn't have British accent. His hair was a messy strawberry blond and he had hazelnut eyes.

He seemed to be nice—different to Henry, the blondie that was rude with her back at the common room. Nevertheless, the Luke spent this whole time quiet so he could analyze her and come to his own conclusion about her. Well—she didn't like to be studied like a curious experiment, but it was way better than having him glowering at her.

She let out a chuckled and wiggled her fingers at them as a goodbye, but gave him no response other than a ' _See ya at the game'_. Then she fixed her scarf on her neck and left.

…

Thankfully, she got there a few minutes before the game started—even though she had no idea how. By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione had joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said _Potter for President,_ and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

"There you are, Charlie." Hermione patted the empty space on her right side.

"Where have you been?"

Ron asked her the moment she sat down—Hermione offered her a bottle of water, and Charlie eagerly snatched it from her friend and gulped down as if she hadn't drunk in months.

"…and why are you looking so exhausted?"

"Thanks 'Mione," Charlotte smiled at the girl in gratitude. "Came running all the way. I forgot I had something—long story."

Hugging the jacket close to her body, Charlie turned around from them and focused ahead, not wanting to give more anything away or Hermione would start questioning. To her luck, they didn't say a word, though they were giving her weird looks.

oOo

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson. "And women," Wood agreed. "This is it." "The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing _Potter for President_ over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

From amidst the scarlet crowd of cheering students, Harry spotted his three friends waving and beaming at his direction—Ron and Charlotte were almost hanging from the edge of the stands trying to get a better look at him while Hermione was behind them, trying to get them to sit back down by pulling on their clothing.

Obviously, she wasn't having too much success.

It was amusing to watch and it brought a grin to his mouth—his nerves dissipating a bit. Madam Hooch's voice echoed through the field and snapped him out of his reverie.

It was game time.

oOo

The waiting lasted about five minutes before both of the Quidditch teams - Gryffindor and Slytherin – exited the locker room, emerging from the tunnel and going straight to the middle of the pitch.

"It's about to start!"

The redheaded Weasley elbowed her, bouncing on his seat enthusiastically. Charlotte grunted when his elbow made contact with her ribs, sending a spark of pain across her body. "Ouch, Ron!"

She shoved him back, although she didn't put any strength in it, and scowled at him, "I already noticed the game it's about to start." Then she searched in the midst of the players for one in particular. It was somewhat difficult—the other players were older and way taller than him, but somehow she managed to sight him behind Wood.

As if in synchrony, both her and Ron got out of their seats as if just caught on fire, and ran to the edge of the stands, propping themselves on the railing, yelling Harry's name at the top of their lungs over the hundreds of voices from the other Gryffindors.

" _Go, Harry!_ "

"Stop doing that—you'll end up falling. _Charlie! Ron!_ "

There was a pull at the back of their clothes, Hermione tried to drag them back to their seats, though it was in vain. In the end she just gave up, rolled her eyes and joined them, standing between Charlotte and Neville.

The crowd quietened for a split second, as soon as Madam Hooch's voice thundered across the grounds.

"Mount your brooms, please."

They watched as Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. Suddenly, Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. Charlotte would have laughed if she wasn't so focused at the game—especially a blurry figure flying way above them.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Yeah!"

Ron and Charlotte high-fived each other.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Charlotte and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

Charlie shook her head.

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

oOo

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had told him. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be." The last part wasn't really comforting to the poor boy.

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loopthe-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement, he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed —

oOo

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

" _Harry!_ "

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Charlotte's fingers were clutching the railing tightly, anger building up within her. She knew that Marcus Flint was a prat—his family was proof enough. But to deliberately attack her friends like that… on his first game, nonetheless. She would make sure he paid for it later.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Charlotte reminded him, sending him a funny look. Inwardly, though, she agreed with him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. "So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —" "Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul —"

" _Jordan, I'm warning you_ —"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

oOo

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts — he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out — and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — oh no . . ."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

oOo

It all happened unexpectedly. One second Harry was still searching for the Snitch, and the other his broom was swerving from side to side. It didn't look like Harry had an idea of what was going on either.

"What…" Charlotte couldn't move her eyes from the sight.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom . . . but he can't have..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands.

His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"Unless—" A gasp left her lips as she exchanged a glance with Hermine. It seemed they thought the same thing.

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape — look."

Charlotte seized the binoculars and aimed at the place her bushy haired friend was pointing, "Is that—the slippery bastard!". Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before they could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Charlotte retrieved the binoculars from Ron and turned it back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard; it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good — every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Returning the focus to the stand opposite to them, Charlotte watched with attention as Snape continued to mumble under his breath—the other teachers were oblivious to it all. All of a sudden, someone bumped into her and she broke her stare to look behind her, but only saw a boy running to the other side of the stands.

When she set the binoculars in front of her eyes once more, she had a different sight—something she hadn't realized before. Her DADA teacher- Professor Quirrell- was sitting a row behind Snape and, like the latter, he was too whispering something under his breath. Charlotte frowned.

"What is he doing?"

She spoke quietly. No one heard her.

Just as she was about to turn to Ron, Hermione entered her vision and kept quiet. Her friend was fighting her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't stop as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.

As she reached Snape, Charlotte almost lost her from sight when she crouched down, and just a few seconds after, blue flames appeared on the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

"Nice job, 'Mione." Charlotte told her the moment she came back and started watching the game alongside her.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field on all fours — coughed — and something gold fell into his hand.

"Look! He got it—we won!"

Bumping her shoulders with Hermione, Charlie jumped up and down, clapping her hands cheerfully.

"I've got the Snitch!" Harry shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Somewhere to her left, Dean and Seamus began screeching animatedly. As if in chain reaction, the whole school -minus the Slytherins- followed suit and exploded with screams as the students stood up, celebrating Gryffindor's victory.

At the ground, the Slytherin Quidditch captain was trying for a rematch.

"He didn't _catch_ it, he nearly _swallowed_ it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Charlotte, Ron and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "The three of us saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

Charlie cleared her throat making the others turn to her questioningly. "Actually, he wasn't the only one…"

Hermione furrowed her brows.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…I was watching Snape but I noticed someone behind him—it was professor Quirrell." She said much to their confusion and surprise. "I don't know what to think, though I'm pretty sure I saw him doing the same thing Snape did. Don't you think that's odd?"

"Professor Quirrell?" Hagrid frowned, seeming deep in thought.

Harry and Hermione were still staring at her. They didn't know what to make of it either. However, Ron made his thoughts pretty clear.

"Maybe he was trying a counter course or something—or he was just talking to himself. I think he is a bit out of his mind, if you ask me." There was no denying that was true. Quirrell sometimes acted, indeed, like a crazy person. "Besides—Who, in all Hogwarts, would want to hurt Harry? Snape. He hates Harry, that's obvious."

To be honest, Malfoy would definitely want to see Harry hurt, but the dimwit could barely do a simple levitation charm properly—yeah, she noticed her fuming cousin at their first Charms class. While he was glaring at hers and Hermione's floating feather with jealous eyes, his kept still on his table, not moving even an inch.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron, Charlotte and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"We found out something about him," he told Hagrid pointing to himself and Charlie. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding." Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

" _Fluffy_?"

"You named that _thing_ Fluffy?" With eyes wide open in shock, Charlie asked the hairy man disbelievingly.

"Yeah — he's mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —" "Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to _steal_ it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Like he wouldn't be capable of worse…"

Charlotte murmured almost inaudibly, so nobody took notice.

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"What about Quirrell?"

Hermione continued, ignoring her completely. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"And Quirrell!" No one answered. The girl was getting frustrated with everyone ignoring her and pretending the whole thing with their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't the least a bit suspicious. Why was she the only one concerned about this?

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel —"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

"Who's that?" She questioned.

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

oOo

They returned to the castle before it got too dark, after trying to get some answers out of Hagrid—all failed attempts. The huge man was lenient in keeping his mouth shut, and send them off the moment he realized the four wouldn't stop till they knew something.

When they finally set their feet within the castle, the four walked to the common room to wait for Harry to freshen up, then they skipped together to the great hall in time for dinner. The place was already crowded, most of the students still wore scarlet and gold colors, showing their support to the Quidditch team.

The second they pushed the big oak doors and stepped into the room, the place exploded in cheers, though there was no other table clapping as harder as the own Gryffindor table. Amidst them, it was hard not to notice Wood and the twins. Fred and George because of their hair and Oliver—the fifth-year looked ready to burst into tears.

It was true that it has been a long time since the Gryffindors won a game—most likely due to the fact the Slytherins liked to play dirty, and tried to knock down the players off their brooms and count them out of the game before they even got a chance to fight back.

Speaking of, the Slytherin bunch didn't seem too happy, Charlotte thought with delight.

The snake's table was the only one brooding for their lost. Not that everyone else cared—many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined Gryffindor's table, some even patted Wood on his back, congratulating him for the game.

Draco Malfoy and Marcus Flint were, by far, the most unpleased people with the result. In fact, Charlotte was sure she could feel her cousin's glare burning at the back of her head as she happily marched through the great hall, grinning to herself, going straight to where Fred and George stood.

Harry was also grinning, but if one looked closely enough they would see the slight flush on his cheeks as he ran his fingers through his disheveled dark hair. He obviously still wasn't used to the attention. Ron, however, soaked in it, sauntering in front of them with a huge beaming expression—Charlotte knew he always felt a bit left out at home with his other six siblings, yet she couldn't get why he desired to be in the spotlight so much.

She would gladly trade places with him, anytime.

"Potter!"

"Well done, Harry!"

"That's our seeker!"

"Potter, C'mere."

An agitated Oliver Wood waved them over, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulders the moment he came within his range.

"Oy, Fair Lady!"

George patted the spot next to him

Once all the ruckus dissipated, everyone settled down and began scarfing down their foods. Dinnertime passed quickly between many bites of chomp lamb and pumpkin juice—Charlie tumbled her fingertips on the table, while her other hand held her fork, hitting it softly on her plate, creating a tinkling sound.

She was impatiently waiting for dessert time. It was only a matter of time before the mountain of sweets and mouth-watering little pies magically – no pun intended – appeared at the table.

"Something wrong?"

The voice made her snap her head to the side, meeting George's curious eyes. Apparently, her drumming on the plate while staring unblinkingly at an undefined spot was sort of unnerving. Her fingers stilled and recoiled almost instantly to her lap. She was acting like a freaking weirdo.

Charlie shook her head, sending him a sincere smile.

"Do you have it already?" Hermione whispered in her ear. Charlotte only told her she asked Remus for something and that it was a surprise present. Luckily, the girl was not one to babble around – like Lavender and Parvati, for example-, and swore she wouldn't mention anything to Harry. Of course Hermione would connect the dots.

"Hmm-mm," she gave the muggleborn witch an affirmative nod. "It's in our dorm."

To be honest, she was kind of uneasy in leaving the parcel at the dormitory. It was no news that Charlotte didn't trust Lavender one bit, to don't try and take a peek at it. That's why she hid it in a special chest with a locking spell, so only she would be able to open—her ninth's birthday present from Andy.

There was once day, Charlie just came back to her dormitory after lunch and she had a peculiar sight the moment she limped through the door, that had her blood boiling inside her.

The loud blond girl was shamelessly rummaging through her things, and had the decency to look like a deer caught in the headlights when she heard Charlie clearing her throat, standing behind her with an unamused expression. Lavender's head hit the wooden bed when she stood with a jump from where she was crouched under her bed, and spluttered nervously.

Although, being her snotty, arrogant self, it merely took a few seconds for the witch to pretended as if she did nothing wrong and glower at Charlotte, with the awful excuse that she was just looking for a hairbrush—even though her hair looked fine and her own hairbrush was clearly visible only a few steps away on her nightstand, so… yeah.

Things were already tense between them since their first night at Hogwarts, and that 'little incident' did nothing more than add more fuel to the fire. It was like an unspoken thing—they would see each other at the hallways, classes, Great Hall, common room and dorm. Lavender glared. Charlotte pretended she didn't exist.

It worked for her.

No matter that nearly everyone at school had laid off the whole Black thing. Lavender Brown would always, for some unknown reason, hate her and treat her like a dangerous walking disease.

Whatever.

"Wotay awkin bau?" Ron managed across from them through a mouthful of smashed potatoes, choking a bit and making a few pieces fly across the table, gaining a disgusted ' _Gross'_ from Hermione. The redhead tried to swallow, but ended up coughing again, before gulping down some glass of water that Harry pushed in front of him.

"What—Ron!"

"I think he meant 'what are you talking about.'"

Hermione looked flabbergasted. "How can you even understand that?"

Charlotte shrugged.

"With time, you get used to it." Neither Harry or Hermione had anything to say about that, though Fred and George nodded their heads in agreement, the former even bringing his own juice glass up in a 'cheers' motion. "And to answer your question, dear Ronniekins," There was a few snickers coming from the twins and Lee. "None of your business."

She finished, sending him a wink and a smirk.

"Ouch."

"So harsh, Fair Lady."

Before any of them could utter another word, a sweet aroma filled their nostrils and made their mouths water in anticipation. Bowls with whipped cream, mini cakes of all flavors, fruits and every high-sugared food one could imagine, were served all along the five tables in the great hall.

Everyone began digging in once more, a few were already too full from the dinner, but couldn't resist the sweet temptation, and Charlotte watched as her friends pilled food in their plates around her, inwardly jumping up and down in anxiousness, and doing a mental countdown.

…Two. One.

There was a few gasps from the Gryffindor table, mainly coming from the bushy haired girl beside her. A huge – and she meant huge- cake materialized out of nowhere and right in front of Harry, who had his eyes almost bulging out of its sockets as he gaped at it.

It was a perfect replica of the Quidditch pitch with small cheering folks on the stands – Charlotte wondered how Trix did—oh, Lookie there! She could see her mini self standing with the miniature of Ron and Hermione -, the Gryffindor Quidditch team were hovering a few feet above the ground, while a single boy flew higher than everyone else with a fluttering golden ball near him. Obviously it was Harry, they noticed. It was hard not to when they saw the familiar round glasses and the lighting scar on his face.

A smile came to Charlie's lips as she observed every dumbfounded faces near her. All of a sudden, the little Harry Potter had the snitch clutched in his right hand and immediately, fireworks exploded above their heads in many colors, forming the words ' _Congratulations to our greatest seeker ever! Go, Harry!'._

Said boy blushed deep red as a thunder of applause and whistles sounded all over the room, though Harry had a grin on his face—he was embarrassed from all the attention, but wasn't exactly uncomfortable about it, either.

At the staff table, Charlotte was pleasantly surprised to see that every teacher – except for Snape, what a surprise – were clapping just as enthusiastically, even though Professor McGonagall had on her strict gaze fixed on her figure.

Charlie sent her a wave, the woman throwing another look her way as if saying she knew she was the responsible for the commotion. And even though she acted like she was mad, Professor McGonagall was a bit amused, if the slight tilt of her lips was anything to go by. The transfiguration teacher would deny everything if asked, naturally.

Alongside the headmistress, was the headmaster himself. His twinkling blue eyes met hers, and he did nothing to conceal the fact that he was very much enjoying the scene. She knew she was in no trouble –yet, at least. Professor Dumbledore seemed to have a soft spot for her, and McGonagall too, despite all the stern glances and lectures she gave the girl.

"Did you do this?"

Oliver, who had watched the silent interaction between the young Black and the two elders, probed, not knowing whether to feel amused or stunned.

That made mostly everyone stare at her. Harry switched his gaze from the moving two tier cake to her and waited for her reply. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Oliver and Angelina did the same as the Weasley twins were too occupied gushing over how ' _wicked'_ the cake was.

"The fireworks are mine. Moony taught me how to do it—don't tell your mother!" She spoke mostly to Ron. "She would strangle him. Hmm…well, about it, I asked a little friend of mine to do it."

She pointed at the Quidditch field imitation, shrugging her shoulders.

"Little friend?" The young Weasley pried again, wanting to know more.

"It's a secret."

The girl could literally feel the hundreds of stares burning at her back, yet she didn't turn around once. Charlotte choose to ignore them and focused on Harry, only to discover he was already staring at her.

' _Thank you'_ he mouthed.

Beaming in response, she grabbed a shiny silver knife and offered it to young wizard.

"The first slice is yours, Mr. seeker."

The boy silently took it from her, mumbling another quick thankful comment, Ron basically pleading him to be done with it as Charlie thought drool would fall off his chin at any moment. If it was up to him, the witch knew, he would be already with a mouthful of cake, devouring it with bare hands. Who needed a fork, anyways?

The piece of the three layered cake dropped on the black haired boy's plate—Trix did an amazing job at baking it. The inside looked much more appealing. And delicious.

The rest followed suit, nearly tacking each other – Fred and George- to get a slice of it, even though there was more than enough for everyone. Charlotte munched slowly, savoring the taste of caramel, lemon and chocolate. She never thought the three flavors could taste so good together.

"Wait—that's why you made us take you to the kitchen, right?"

Mockingly, she whirled around to face Fred and said, "Duh" as if the most obvious thing in the world.

"Never thought it would take this long for you to realize. I'm disappointed, really." He faked offence and George, who was quiet – surprisingly – since he started eating again, copied his brother. As usual, their friends ignored both of them while Charlie rolled her eyes at their childish antics.

"You're so mean to us—"

"And we have done nothing, Fair Lady!" Fred whined dramatically and George throwing his arm over her shoulder and dragging her closer to his side, making her scowl at him.

"I spent too much time around you—I think that's enough."

"Not true—"

"Preposterous!"

"Ridiculous!"

"Whatever," she waved them off. "Although, I assumed you would be more than happy that you two had some influence over me. Huh…guess I was wrong then."

Their faces were comically bemused.

When everyone was fed, all of the dishware vanished into thin air, leaving the five tables clean as they were before dinner, and the mouth-watering smell of food was gone.

The headmaster's voice boomed across the walls of the hall, announcing it was time for them to go to their respective common rooms. A low chatter filled the place as the students stood up from their seats and lined up to leave the Great Hall—with the excitement from the game having worn off, mostly everybody was wishing for a good night of sleep.

Except for one person. For now, at least.

There was still something she had to do before she could finally flop down on her bed for a well-deserved rest.

oOo

"See you at breakfast!"

"Night."

A group of second-years pushed past her and sprinted upstairs as she strode into the warm room, Harry, Ron and Hermione just behind her. The redhead yawned loudly, making someone snicker beside Charlotte, before the Weasley glowered at his older brothers when they ruffled his flaming red mane playfully.

Ron kept on rumbling about it, even after they bid the twins goodnight and strolled to their bedroom. Then, the others were already gone and only the quartet remained there.

All of a sudden, Charlie felt a push on her side, and met Hermione's brown eyes. The girl was sending a subtle, meaningful glance at her, and tilted her head towards the stairs leading to their dorm. The dark haired witch nodded.

Rushing upstairs in a hurry before anyone could say anything, leaving two puzzled boys and a grinning girl behind.

The door slammed open, startling both Lavender and Parvati who were engrossed in a gossip session – as usual -, and all but raced to her side of the dorm, dropping down next to her bed just in front of her massive trunk, not oblivious to the looks the blond and the Indian girls were tossing at her kneeled figure, but too busy to even care.

For Merlin's sake—Remus was right.

Charlie grunted in frustration and annoyance as she searched through her things. Why couldn't she have packed like a normal person? And above all, like a girl? No…she had to, literally, throw everything carelessly inside the trunk. A trunk with an Extension Charm on it.

Great.

She would never find it amidst that mess. Maybe it was time for her to learn to be a little bit organized—oh, wait!

Her fingers grazed a smooth, wooden surface and she found a handle at the side, pulling it out, grinning in content. Never mind the fact that her roommates had stopped talking and still stared at her weirdly.

"Found it!"

Knowing that Hermione wouldn't keep the boys downstairs for much longer, Charlotte was quick to grab the chest and balance it with both hands, before holding her thumb to the lock, making sure her body was covering it from the prying eyes in the room—her back to them.

A slight ' _click'_ reached her ears, then the lock glowed a light blue color, the lid falling open afterwards. It had recognized her signature magic. One of the best presents ever.

Wasting no more time, the girl got the wrapped package out, snapped the chest closed, the padlock sealing it once more, and shoved it inside her trunk and also shut it, propping herself on her left hand and lifting herself off the floor. She brushed the dirt from her hand at the front of her jeans and ran out the door without looking back.

"…at the library by the morning. Now the game is over, there's no excuse."

Of course.

Charlotte shook her head with a chuckle. She wasn't at all surprised that, out of everything she could talk to distract the boys with, Hermione would choose something like homework.

' _Such a nerd.'_ She thought fondly with a smile.

Time to put Ron and Harry out of their misery.

"We just want to sleep, Hermione," She heard Ron's voice. The poor boy seemed almost pleading. "Why can't we talk about this tomorrow?"

"It would better to arrange everything early—Charlie!"

The three finally noticed her.

The muggleborn witch squealed with something akin to relief. She must have been running out of ideas to keep them from leaving.

"I think that's enough torture, 'Mione."

Charlotte was watching the three from the foot of the stairs with an entertained grin, her words teasing.

Her friends were so different form each other. It was surreal how it happened.

Ron was the funny, laidback boy. Hermione, ever the smart and responsible one. Harry was sweet and a bit shy, but had a fierce streak within him too, sometimes. Especially whenever Malfoy was involved.

Then there was her.

Charlotte Black was, by no means, an arrogant and mean girl, despite what everyone said about her heritage. There was no denying that she could be somewhat 'bipolar' at times. She could be totally relaxed on moment, and the other she was a ticking bomb ready to explode.

Though that only occurred when someone did or said something to insult her family—something that happened frequently, given her last name.

It was a wonder, how she got along so well with Ron, even if they butted heads with each other every once in a while. Both of them were hot-tempered, Charlie more so than Ron, despite the fact that the boy had inherited the Weasley temper.

That's why Fred and George were the first ones from the Weasley clan that she befriended. The two redheads were so easygoing and entertaining to be around that was nearly impossible to be truly mad at them – except, of course, if your name was Molly Weasley -, no when they could put a smile on her face as easily as they could annoy her to no end with their antics.

Ronald was a different story altogether. He was a slight difficult child at the beginning, but once their prudish behavior, the two had stuck like glue.

So it came as a surprise that Charlotte, Ron, Hermione and Harry became such good friends. Charlie expected them to fight every ten minutes. Most of the times, the four shared such unalike views on things. It was astounding—but somehow, it worked.

"Bloody hell—thanks, Charlie." Ron sighed in relief, and though it was not as obvious as the ginger, she noticed Harry doing the same. Hermione rolled her eyes at the boys and huffed in response to her friend's comment.

"I'm just trying to help them," the girl retorted, straightening her posture and crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Those two need to learn how to be more responsible and do things on their own—copying every assignment from ours isn't right."

Now it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes, yet he didn't say a thing.

Patting Hermione's shoulder in a playful manner, Charlotte sent her a smirk, "I know, 'Mione. I know."

And cue to another eye roll.

"Never mind," the bushy-haired witch paused, letting her gaze fall to her friend, whose arm was hidden behind her back. "Well, time for bed. It's late."

And without waiting for an answer, she proceeded to push a complaining Weasley, who was sporting a baffled face that diminished to a tired one as sleepiness took over and he let a yawn escape again, allowing his friend to usher him towards the boys' staircase.

The boy-who-lived was about to follow his best friend, when a hand clasp his wrist and made him halt in his steps. "Wait."

Ron and Hermione finally disappeared from their range of vision. There was a muffled sound of doors closing upstairs and everything went silent once again, leaving the other two to face each other, one in confusion and the other toying with the end of her sleeves, timidly—that was odd, since she was no shy girl.

Still, she had the excuse in her mind as to why she was feeling so awkward.

This was Harry.

Not Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived and all that rubbish. That's not what she meant.

Right in front of her was the boy she had been friends with as children -not that she remembered it, understandably –, Prong's son, the one she wanted to meet ever since she saw the various pictures as a child. And here they were, after all these years, reunited again. Finding Harry after almost ten years later, and befriending him was so astonishing—Charlotte felt like a part of her childhood was restored. It was a good feeling.

So, yeah.

She had a pretty satisfactory reason to be acting so unlike herself while the boy right in front of her blinked sleepily, no doubt waiting for her to say something. After all, Charlie was the one who stopped him from going off to dreamland, tucked in a cocoon of warm and velvety covers—might as well get over it.

' _You are Charlotte Black. You don't get all tongue-tied over something like this!'_

Replaying the words in her head like a mantra, and unaware that her fingers were clutching the package way to tightly out of nerves, took a deep breath and prayed mentally that she didn't look as panicked as she felt.

"For you," came her feeble attempt, the now slightly crunched package being almost literally forced into his eyesight, as she basically shoved it under Harry's nose, only stopping a few inches from the boy. "Happy late birthday, Harry."

Fighting over the urge to sleep, the young wizard hesitantly moved his gaze from his friend's uncomfortable face and stared at his, apparently, present. Harry seized it from her small hands, noting the tinge of worry in her features, more so than before, and frowned in curiosity, not really understanding why Charlie was behaving so oddly.

As he looked down at the bundle in his hands, his exhaustion was pushed back of his mind, if only for a moment, and he, like any average boy – even if he was far from average -, became a bit eager to see what it was.

Tearing the brown wrapping apart a bit quicker than necessary, Harry found a big book-sized album of a dark blue color with a brown leather strap keeping it closed. Looking with attention, at its base there were some words written on it in a smoky grey color.

 _To our everlasting bond_

 _May it proceed for the many generations to come_

 _M._

He creased his eyebrows, but nonetheless Harry carefully undid the strap and opened album, only to widen his emerald green eyes in astonishment as he found two familiar faces gazing and happily waving back at him. Faces he dreamt of seeing in person for eleven years.

Lily and James Potter were not the only ones in the picture, though Harry had a hard time looking elsewhere.

His reaction had Charlotte biting her lower lip anxiously. What if he hadn't like it? Maybe it was a mistake and she was only making him feel bad seeing them—

"How—thank you."

She heard the low mutter coming from the black haired boy, and if she wasn't mistaken or too drowsy to see things clearly, Charlie swore she saw a teardrop running down his face. Her heart clenched at the sight.

"I had it for ages…sometimes I would sneak into the attic just to look at it. Moony found me once, well—it's a long story, but he always kept his distance from it," she told him, her voice nothing but a whisper, the fireplace crackling every once in a while in the background. "At first it was kind of hard, you know, stare at it wondering what would have been like if they weren't…"

Harry nodded sadly.

"But with time, that wasn't such a bad thing—the what ifs turned into a good memory. Even if they're not real." Charlotte gave him a weak smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and then lowered her head, playing with her fingers. Letting out a sigh, she continued, "That's my parents and Moony right here," she looked up and pointed at the three people standing by the left side of Harry's parents. All of them were smiling widely, her father had an arm around her mother's waist and the other was on James' shoulder, while Remus had his hands intertwined at his waistline. He aged so much so much in the last few years. She guessed part because of the werewolf gene and the part because of the things he had seen and been through in the past. "And that's Peter. I actually don't know much about him, only they were friends."

She purposely left out the part where Peter was supposedly murdered by her own father. It wasn't true, after all. Not to her.

The chubby boy was the only one, awkwardly hanging behind the others, hiding between her father and James. Unlike the others, he had a rather uncomfortable face on. Actually, he wore that same face in every single picture she saw.

"These pictures are one of the things in my life that I treasure the most. It's the only thing keeping me from forgetting their faces," she bit the inside of her cheek nervously. "If it was anyone else I wouldn't, but… Take care of it, Harry."

Taking an almost hesitant step back, her fingers twitched ever so slight, itching to keep contact with the smooth surface of the album for a little longer.

The green eyed wizard flipped to the next page carefully, sneaking a peek at her while she was distractedly staring at the floor. His orbs filled with something akin to confusion as he looked between her and the folder in his hands. "If it matters so much to you, then why give it to me, Charlie?"

"Because even if both of us are basically on the same boat, I know I still have Moony as a connection to my parents—you have none. You deserve it, Harry. Besides, you're my best friend," she grinned softly. "I'm glad that I could, at least, let you know something about your family. You would do the same for me."

At that moment, they exchanged a meaningful glance.

Yeah.

He would do the same. In a heartbeat.

"Goodnight, Harry."

His fingers slowly traced the pictures, then flipping to the next page and giving it a brief look before snapping it close. The boy-who-lived swallowed, feeling his eyes moistening, however no tear escaped.

When Harry glanced up, ready to thank her for the present again, he was surprised when arms wrapped around him in a quick hug. Before he could even process or even hug back, she withdrew from him—with one last smile, she left the boy at the common room, watching silently as she went upstairs to her dorm.

"Night, Charlie." He whispered softy. His eyes went to the crackling fire behind him, then he brought the album to his chest and finally went to his own bedroom.

oOo

The wind softly blew into the room, making the curtains move around, letting the moonlight come in. Shadows danced on the walls. Staring at the ceiling, her dark hair spilled across her pillow, Charlotte willed herself to go sleep.

Like usual, her roommates were already fast asleep, even Hermione—in fact, when she got inside the room, she was pretty sure she saw her bushy haired friends with a bit of dribble on the corner of her mouth. She let out a chuckle. It was a funny sight, though she couldn't blame the girl. It was a long day.

As her eyes were finally starting to drop, millions of thoughts invaded her mind, but one stood out from the others.

So many what ifs.

"I'll miss you…"

And so she let her world become black, her dreams filled with people she could only hope to see once more.

oOo


	11. Mirror of Erised

**An especial thanks to my best friend who helped me with ideas for the chapter (I had an author's block, that sucks)** **Sorry if there's any misspelling. I literally stopped writing at 4a.m. so I didn't have the time to check it out.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 10 - Mirror of Erised**

.

November passed by pretty quick—now that the Quidditch game was over, everyone calmed down for a bit and they had nothing to look up to, except for, maybe, a pile of homework.

If someone expect the teachers to go easy on them, they were severely disappointed.

According to most of them – McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape – the fatigue over the game season was not an excuse for stopping their studies. Well, Charlotte thought that, at least, it was Professor McGonagall and Flitwick's way of thinking, because they _did_ care about their education.

Snippy Snape only did for the joy of it. Because getting innocent -not so innocent- first years miserable every single day of the year was his way of being happy.

What a pleasant bloke.

Still, without all the stress and anxiety, everyone -mostly- focused on the classes. With dampened moods, to be honest.

As Charlie promised Hermione, she had, indeed, started paying more attention at lessons – not History of Magic, though. That was nearly impossible – and she had yet to get into trouble with the greasy git, as she began calling him in her head or whenever the man wasn't around, much to Hermione's displeasure.

The cold man noticed—the girl also noticed he did.

He was really obvious, actually.

Probably, Snape was waiting for her to say something stupid that would lose her a few points -she had never landed in detention-, but she hadn't done a thing.

At the classes, she sat quietly between Harry and Hermione, following every instruction carefully and writing down every single word he spoke.

It was unnerving to her classmates, as they were grew used to her always talking back. However, now, no matter what Snape did or tried to say to get a rise out of her, she remained unmoving and silent, calmly staring back at him with emotionless orbs.

Even if she was, literally, everything but calm on the inside.

Every so often, she had to clutch her hands into fist tightly, folding them on her lap underneath the desk, holding back the urge to just let one of her swirling thoughts come true.

Most of them involving her fist flying right to that crooked nose of his.

Unfortunately, punching one of your teachers wasn't an acceptable or 'ladylike' behavior, and she could get in trouble for it.

And yeah—she was totally ignoring the fact that she _shouldn't_ be hurting anyone. _Period_.

Perhaps she really had anger issues.

…

Oh, that's alright.

Fortunately, November was finally over and everyone got quite cheery once more. Their assignments were put aside, as everyone was more worried about their list of presents for friends and family, for Christmas was coming—Charlie was driving Hermione, not to mention her other two roommates, mad with all of her incessant babbling. It was her favorite holiday, after all.

One morning in mid-December, the girls were awakened by a too overly eager Charlotte, nearly screaming at the top of her lungs. It was odd that, for once, the curly haired muggleborn looked slight bummed for being so rudely awaken so early in the morning. Or maybe it was the fact that someone was up early than her. Someone that sometimes could sleep through a hurricane without even moving an inch.

Bluntly ignoring the complains and grimaces she was receiving, Charlie carelessly threw the blankets off her, only half of it remained on the bed, and let her bare feet touch the floor, shivering as her skin felt the coldness underneath her. Chip took total advantage the moment she left the bed, and crawled from under the covers at the end of the bed where he was sleeping, before jumping on the abandoned pillow and curling himself into a fur ball, purring as he fell asleep.

" _Go back to bed_." A Soft voice drawled sleepily behind her.

Parvati had turned on her side, opening one of her eyelids with much effort to peek at a beautiful antique alarm clock on her nightstand, groaning as she did so. "It's barely six in the morning…"

Though that didn't seem to be Charlotte concern today—of course, at any other day she would be awfully moody if someone, as in her best friend, interrupted her slumber this early. Speaking of, Hermione was staring at her as if she'd just grown another head, yet she sat on her bed and yawned instead of getting back to sleep. Not that she would have actually succeeded, anyway.

If there's one thing the grey eyed witch learned, was that no matter if she was exhausted, Hermione could never close her eyes again if someone woke her up. Not that it happened to be daily occurrence, of course. It was unlikely to find someone other than her, who was up even before the sun came up—well, perhaps the Headmaster himself, who had a habit of taking strolls around the grounds when everyone was still in dreamland. Dumbledore once said that it helped with organizing his thoughts.

Charlotte would know. Most of the time, that was the reason why she would sneak off the Lake Cottage. Sitting by the water, hearing the owls peeping in the distance or the sound of the leaves shaking in the wind. It was relaxing and something she often needed.

While unaware to her roommates' displeasure, she mustn't have noticed she was making a lot of noise as she searched inside her trunk, because not a second after she closed it shut, she felt something collide with the back of her head.

A single slipper stopped at the side of her left thigh.

" _Can you keep quiet, Black?_ _There's people trying to sleep here, if you didn't notice_!"

Came the muffled hiss from Lavender's bed.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could only see the blond locks spilled across the mattress. Apparently, Lavender didn't want to put up with the noise – or her- anymore, so she had her pillow shoved on her face.

Charming.

She rolled her eyes, but was too much in good mood to say anything, so she let the silence be her only answer, then she skipped to the window. The freezing morning breeze greet her as soon as she opened it, goosebumps rising all over her arms, and she rubbed them together to keep warm.

Even with the weather, she couldn't find in herself to shut the window—not when she had such amazing sight from where she was standing.

When in the spring, she loved to see the variety of colors the world had to offer—though, it was hard not to appreciate the beauty of winter. Especially now that Hogwarts was covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and everything around was completely turned to white. Charlotte felt like she was inside of one of those snow globes, like the one Ted once gave her.

Somehow, the view made her think about innocence. Purity. All of that snow…so simple, yet so breathtaking.

Perhaps that's why she loved the season so much, even if autumn was her favorite one. To her, it was a way to feel like getting some of that innocence back—the same one she lost as a child.

It was strange, but it worked.

Maurice was nowhere in sight, she noticed. Her owl might be at the owlery or stretching his wings a bit—he loved flying around when the weather was cold, something he started doing frequently since she came to Hogwarts.

After a few minutes standing by the window, just observing, her stomach rumbled and Charlie finally moved from her spot to seize the clothes she had left at her bed, leaving the window wide open as she sauntered to the bathroom—Hermione was getting up from her bed the moment she locked the door.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

Hermione, no doubt.

And before the bushy haired witch could say anything, the door opened and Charlotte appeared with a toothbrush in her mouth and her pajamas hanging on her arm, hair dripping wet, as she used her free hand to turn the doorknob.

" _I'm almost done_." She tried to say with her mouth occupied, but it probably ended up as something else entirely, but the other must have understood, because she nodded—not before rolling her orbs at her, though.

The instant she was finished, Charlie let her friend in and walked back to the dorm where the other two girls were still sound asleep. The door closed behind her and she crossed the room and sat on her bed, waiting for Hermione to come out.

Her fingers touched the end of her damp locks and she sighed.

Where was her wand?

The last thing she needed was to get sick because she went out in this weather with her wet hair.

Opening the drawer on her bedside table, she found her wand made of yew right under her sketchbook that Charlie got out and dropped on her bed, before grabbing her wand and murmuring a drying charm she had seen Andromeda and Tonks using so many times in the past.

By now, she could do it without mistakes, though the first time she tried the spell a few months back, she almost blew her head off, and the second time hadn't worked at all. Gratefully, by the third trial there was no accidents, so it was an improvement.

There was a warm breeze coming from the tip of the stick, evolving around her head and to her shoulders, her hair blowing backwards—in less than two minutes, her hair was all dry.

With nothing to do but wait, she clutched her sketchbook, sitting with her legs crossed over the bed, with her back supported by one of the bedposts, and started drawing an adorable-looking Chip, curled in his sleep. She couldn't fight the smile at the cute scene.

Right when she was finishing the last details of her drawing, Hermione came out of the bathroom, her uniform in its usual neatness, not a single thing out of place—hers only stayed the same because her muggleborn friend always complained about the care, or lack of, she had with her stuff.

It was like talking to a wall since she'd never changed.

So after a while, Hermione took upon herself to watch out for everything. Including Charlotte's belongings.

It's was truly peculiar how much she had in common with Remus.

"Ready to go?"

Meeting the brown eyes staring at her, Charlie nodded and jumped out of the bed—her cat remained motionless, although he slightly opened his eyes to see what was the commotion about, not taking long to go back to ignore the two of them.

oOo

"Stop,"

"You didn't brush your hair, did you?"

"So what if I didn't—Hermione!"

The entire way from their dorm to the Great Hall went like this. Never mind that they were attracting attention from the few people that were already awake—considering the time, the halls were nearly empty and the place was silent, so even if they weren't exactly being loud, their voices seemed higher than usual.

The moment the two girls passed through the Fat Lady's portrait, Hermione opened her mouth – Charlie controlled the urge to massage her temples or roll her grey eyes in exasperation -, ranting about…oh, yeah. Actually, most of the times she managed to block out whatever came from her friend, so Charlie had no idea what Hermione was ranting about.

No matter.

Sure it was the usual thing. If not… let's just nod at everything and hope we're not agreeing to anything stupid. Note to self: never, like _never_ , space out whenever you're talking with Fred or George.

She'd learned that lesson as an always-spacing-out-eight-year-old-girl.

Granting, no one could blame her for wanting to be anywhere but there, while listening to somebody – as in your best friend – rant about how you should behave or dress up like. Or even about _your_ freaking _hair._

Like—seriously?

It was almost Christmas!

Who even cares about how her hair looked like?

Apparently, Hermione did. A lot.

"I've been trying to make you brush your hair for months—"

"And for months I told you my hair's just fine like that,"

"For Merlin's sake! It wouldn't kill you to do it once in a while."

"Yes, it would."

Hermione huffed irritably. "Charlie…"

"'Mione." The mocking tone wasn't lost on the other.

"I'm only trying to help you." She said, still completely unmindful of the eyes that were fixated on them. Charlotte wondered how that would look to someone else—two first-years up at barely seven a.m. wondering in the halls, with one of them all but tugging the other's hair while the other tried to push her off. "One of these days, someone will mistake your hair for a bird's nest. I don't really have a choice, you know…my hair is too curly, so I'm always trying to tame him a bit,"

By now, they were marching through the door and into the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing in the silent castle.

As her eyes surveyed around the room, Charlie saw there were only four Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff and two fifth-year Gryffindors, none the she knew. She was mentally thanking merlin, marveling the fact that no one from Slytherin had showed up…

That is, if she wasn't counting Snape. Her eyes went to the Staff Table where the professor was sitting with no one other than McGonagall and, at the main sit, Dumbledore himself, who turned his twinkling blue eyes to her figure once she entered, and smiled at her, raising his goblet at her ever so slightly, as a greeting.

She smiled back and waved a little, forgetting that Hermione was still babbling beside her as they went to their usual sit.

"…yours is so beautiful, and you don't even take care of it. My mother said that when growing up, a lady should always keep—"

"'Mione!" Did you ever feel the need to facepalm so badly, but you had to control yourself because there was people around you, and you didn't want them to think you more insane than you already were? Because she did. Charlotte was feeling it right now.

There was no bloody way she hearing that 'growing up' talk. Again.

She already had it with Andromeda, Ms. Weasley _and_ Tonks, who acted more like a schoolgirl with a crush than a grownup woman. No choice in the matter, though. Those three had a way to make everyone listen—even if they had to tie you to a chair so you wouldn't escape. Molly and Andy were downright frightening when they wished to be.

Nymphadora would just annoy the hell out of you until she got what she wanted. Apparently she would have the same problem with Hermione. Merlin…

Charlotte closed her eyes and groaned in frustration, not believing she was about to do that just to make her best friend shut up.

"I'll let you brush my hair every single morning, if you wish. Just keep quiet about it for five minutes, would you?"

Why she wasn't surprised that there was no peep coming from the other as they ate their breakfast.

If that was a slight hint to the many years to come…Charlotte knew she was done for. No matter what, she knew she would anything for her friends. Especially Hermione, Ron and Harry.

Odd thing was—

She didn't mind. Not a bit.

oOo

It took a while for the boys to appear at the Great Hall—nothing out of ordinary, as they were one of the last to come down from their dorm. Ron never changed, because ever since she'd know him, he would be the last one up out of every Weasley in their house.

When they got there, at last, almost everyone was already in the room, chattering and the sound of cluttering filled the hall, some students talking animatedly amongst themselves, while others still had a faraway, tired look, yawning to shake their sleep away. By the Ravenclaw table, a few students had their faces shoved in books, their spoons hanging in their fingers as they did a small pause on their meal to read another sentence.

It didn't come as a shock that Charlotte didn't make to Ravenclaw—not that she didn't like reading or wasn't smart enough. It was the whole studying part that she wasn't too fond of. Although she liked learning something new…

She was a walking paradox. Great.

"Are you staying for the holidays?"

Looking up from her bowl full of oat porridge with honey, berries and bits of apple, she faced the ginger across the table, not really sure if he had directed the question to herself, but answered anyways after swallowing.

"Not sure, yet." She shrugged her shoulders in a dismissive manner, though her mood was somewhat dampened as she recalled something. "Have to wait for Moony to reply first. He's been occupied."

That was true.

As much as she was happy for her godfather, Charlotte couldn't help but notice that, perhaps, his job – whatever it was – was taking a toll on him. He was so busy nowadays, that she hadn't received any letter from him after the last one he sent the day of the Quidditch game.

And he used to owl her almost every week…

Hermione frowned beside her, before throwing a sympathetic glance her way. The witch knew how worried Charlie was about Remus—she had even seen her a few times, after midnight when she thought everyone was asleep, sitting by the window, staring at the sky as if Maurice would appear at any second with a letter from her godfather.

Hours into the night—nothing ever came.

And when that happened, she used to go to bed, burying herself in the blankets, with a dejected look on her face, that had Hermione's heart clenching in sadness for her best friend. She was getting worried herself, and she really hoped that Remus would reply soon.

Neither of the boys noticed the way her shoulders sagged, or how she fell quiet and didn't take her eyes off her meal for the rest of the conversation. Charlotte felt a hand subtly poke at her elbow, and meet the brown eyes of her friend.

She offered Hermione a small smile, trying to reassure her that she was fine. Hermione wasn't fooled, though. Either way, she didn't mention anything about it anymore—something that Charlie was grateful for.

How could she get, from the bubbly girl at the dorm to the gloomy one currently sitting at the Gryffindor table, so fast?

Charlotte drowned out the rest of the conversation, choosing to focus on her breakfast—she counted the minutes until classes started. Anything to distract her from thinking about her godfather.

Not even five minutes later, while she was twirling her spoon in her oatmeal, not feeling that hungry anymore, she felt a nudge at her side that made her snap her head upwards.

" _Hey,"_

She hadn't even realized when the twins came in, so she was fairly surprised to find George sitting at her left. Meeting his worried gaze with a questioning look of her own, the girl waited for him to say something, but he was interrupted by a voice before he could say a word.

"Isn't that your owl, Charlie?"

Neville, who was a few rows away from her with Dean and Seamus, was pointing at something above their heads that was flying across the Great Hall, coming straight towards her.

When she looked up, Charlotte was pleased to note that Neville, indeed, had been right—Maurice flapped his wings, soaring close to her with not only a letter, as she had expected. A medium, nicely wrapped package was hanging from his beak by a tiny rope and dropped right in front of her, luckily avoiding the several plates of food around.

Not wasting a second, she searched for the letter first, instead of just opening the bundle. It was strange, though, because Christmas still was a few days away, so it was a bit early for a Christmas present.

Without noticing that Hermione had been looking at her the entire time, a smile on her face, she unfolded the paper and read it eagerly.

 _Dear Charlie,_

 _I'm deeply sorry that I hadn't been able to write you as much as I used to. Regrettably, it was required for me to do a job out of town for a while, and contacting with you proved to be a hard task._

 _The Tonks were nice enough to offer me assistance, though I refused. It was my job to do, and mine only. They understand. Do not fret about it. I'm alright, dear. I know you possibly got quite a fright by my lack of response, and for that I apologize._

 _I fear we won't be spending this Christmas together, I'm sorry. There's still plenty to do over here, and I hope you'll understand. But you can stay with Andromeda if you rather not stay at Hogwarts-what I really doubt considering your new companions. I promise I'll make it up to you._

 _Onto a better note, on my way back home, I found something that I thought you might like – pretty useful as well. And no…that's not your Christmas present, if you wondering. Although, it very well could be._

 _Sometimes, the better things in life are the ones that we don't see, but feel._

 _I hope you doing fine, sweetheart. And even though we won't be together this holyday, I'll spend these days thinking of you. You're never alone._

 _Have fun. Don't get into much trouble._

 _Happy Christmas, little firebird._

 _._

 _Love,_

 _._

 _Moony._

A grin was etched on her lips as she finished, though there still some sort of sadness at the thought of not spending her favorite holyday without Remus—it was the first time it happened. And she didn't like the feeling. Not at all.

Especially when she gathered from his letter that he wouldn't be writing her for a while.

Was she pouting at the moment? Definitely. Not that she cared. Could someone even blame her for it?

"Are you okay?" George was staring at her, his twin stealing glances at her every now and then over his shoulder.

Charlotte folded the letter in her hands, sighing as she did so. Plastering a smile on her face that she hoped was happy and convincing enough, trying not to whine like a child denied of their favorite sweet. "Yeah…I'm alright now."

The redhead seemed to believe her, fortunately.

"What did you get?" the youngest Weasley was regarding the package with curious, extending his hand across the table—Charlie slapped his fingers away before he could even attempt to touch it. "Ouch—was that really necessary?"

"Yep. Stop being so nosy," she sent him a fake glare then took the present in her hands, weighting it a bit—it wasn't heavy and she heard no noise coming from it as she shook it. Sharing a look with the trio, who merely shrugged at her, Charlotte tore the wrapper, not really caring that she was making a mess while there was still people eating around her. Some pieces of paper flied all over her, falling onto the bench or the ground.

So what if she was acting like a total maniac? It was completely normal to freak out over a present you just received from someone you haven't talked to in a month…right?

Right.

She was holding a dark green box, trembling with anticipation. What would Remus get her? He said she would like it, and she totally trusted his opinion. No one knew her better than her godfather.

Perhaps it was a wallet for sketching like the one they saw once. Or new quidditch equipment. No… he wouldn't have got her that. What's the point? Her broomstick was doomed and she knew for a fact she wouldn't be getting one this year. She only hoped this wasn't some sort of joke, and Remus sent her a talking mirror.

Charlotte recalled the times when she visited the Weasleys at the Burrow—they had one of it. Awful thing.

Whenever she walked in front the mirror, the witch fought the desire to shatter it into thousand pieces. As if it wasn't enough having everyone at home telling her to smarten herself like a proper growing lady, the comments of how she looked like a ' _scruffy teenage boy'_ and ' _how surprising that you can even see where you going…considering that tangled mess on your head that you call hair, covering you whole face'._

She guessed that when Ms. Weasley went to buy the insufferable thing, the vender forgot to mention the tiny detail that she would be regretting the moment it began talking.

Charlotte almost crossed her fingers, grimacing as she thought about it. It better not be a damned mirror, or Remus wouldn't hear the end of it. Everything else was okay, except for a dress, of course. Even a—

Jacket?

What?

Her fingers touched the leathery cloth of dark blue color, narrowing her eyes and letting her expression fall into confusion. A jacket… Why had her godfather presented her with a jacket?

Remus wrote that it was something she would like, and she did, don't get her wrong. It was beautiful. Though what use a jacket had other than warming her? Charlotte didn't think that's what he meant when he wrote that.

But then…he said it _could_ be her present. Godric.

Now she was most certainly puzzled.

"Wicked,"

"Nice jacket, Fair Lady."

Fred and George, without her even noticing, being lost in her thoughts, were quick to seize out of her hands, looking at it admiringly. "Hey! Do you mind?", Charlotte protested, trying to take it back from them, frowning when they moved it just out of her reach. Giving up with a groan, she turned to Hermione.

"Are you staying, then?" her best friend asked, pointing at the letter.

Seeing everyone else getting up from their seats, most already leaving the hall to go to their classes, Charlotte gathered her stuff, taking the letter and shoving in her backpack, her friends following suit.

"Apparently," she came behind the twins, stealing her jacket back before they could do anything. "Moony's busy."

"Oh…" Hermione face fell. "I'm sorry, Charlie." They started marching out of the Great Hall together, Ron and Hermione at each side of her.

Smiling at her friends, she patted the girl on the shoulder. "It's okay, 'Mione. Honestly."

This time, she knew she was being completely truthful.

Yeah, her guardian wasn't here, but Charlotte would make the most of the situation. She had Hermione, Ron and Harry with her. It was more than enough to make her happy.

oOo

Throughout the day, the Weasley twins managed to be punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons – as if it wasn't cold enough already-, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

Aside from that, everything was going just fine—that is, until Malfoy decided to be the annoying brat he was and opened his mouth.

"I do feel so sorry," he said, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke—Malfoy had the nerve to glimpse at her for a second. Git. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't seem sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Considering the Dursleys back at his home, Charlotte could see why. Harry mentioned them a few times—they didn't sound like a pleasant lot.

Ron and the twins were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit his brother Charlie.

Not resisting the chance to retort, Charlotte put on a bewildered expression. "Why are you going home, then?"

Her voice was loud enough for the people closest to her listen, purposefully so, and she heard the snickers coming from them. Charlotte felt a light kick at her shin, hissing at the pain spreading through her leg but ignoring Hermione altogether. Snape was at the other side of the classroom, so he hadn't overheard anything. No harm done.

Of course what she told Malfoy was a lie. Half of it, anyways.

The girl knew how much Narcissa loved Draco, even if he behaved like a despicable being most of the time, and her being a Black and all… Well, the wrong side of the Black family. Charlotte bet Narcissa hadn't grown up with a great example of a lovable family. She had Bellatrix as a sister, that's saying a lot.

Thanks Merlin that Andromeda choose to leave.

Lucius Malfoy was a completely different case, altogether.

That man…Charlotte doubt he had even an ounce of goodness in his heart. Even with his own son. At least, she'd never seen it, because if anything, Draco sometimes seemed fearful of him. It was true that Lucius spoiled him with gifts and things of the best quality, yet she guessed everything was just a way to brag to the world that he was a powerful man that could have anything he wished for, not out of love for his child.

Sometimes, she felt sorry for him. Not that she would ever speak that out loud.

Nonetheless, Charlie did not regret saying it, albeit it wasn't the overall truth. Though, getting a rise out of her cousin was really amusing.

As she guessed he would, Malfoy instantly got quiet and proceeded to glare at her, only Godric knows what was going on in that mind of his as he narrowed his eyes at her, his mouth firming into a straight line and she noticed his fingers twitching upon the table.

She smirked at him.

Absolutely worth it, Charlotte thought as she turned her back on him and carried on with her task. In her eyesight, she saw his two minions trying to calm him down until Snape's ruff voice echoed in the dungeon, and the three finally stop glaring her way and focused on their own work.

Idiots.

oOo

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Guessing what Charlie was about to do, Hermione grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back to her side, giving her a look that clearly told her to stay put. However, no one could stop Ron in time, so he dived at Malfoy—inopportunely, Snape choose that exact moment to come up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

"You imbec—hmm…"

Not for the first time, and surely it wouldn't be the last, Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth to stop her from finishing. Snape stop in his tracks and turned around, facing her with a sinister look—though he had an anticipating and almost eager glimmer in his eyes. "What was that, Black?"

Obviously, she could not speak with a hand over her mouth, so her friend tried to appease the situation.

"It was nothing, professor."

Only he scorned her way, "My question was not directed to you, Ms. Granger." Then he took another glimpse at Charlotte, his mouth suddenly tilting upwards in a satisfied smirk. "Five points from Gryffindor, Black."

And just left, his black robes flying behind him as he walked off.

The git had been waiting for her to do anything so he could have an excuse to dock points from her. Unbelievable.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking at her as they followed Snape.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him —"

"Not if I get him first," Charlotte snarled as soon as Hermione let her go. "Not to mention Slimy Snape—can you believe him?"

The boys agreed with her; Hermione kept quiet, though.

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me — Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library." She didn't need to say that to Charlotte. Either way, she would just end up being dragged to wherever Hermione wanted to go, so… yeah.

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You _what_?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here — I've told yeh — drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Please, Hagrid," Hagrid shook his head at Charlie's request. "At least give us a hint."

But he remained silent, avoiding their eyes.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century,_ or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries,_ and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry._ And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Remus might know something about it. Her godfather knew about a lot of things, but she could not ask him without raising suspicious, because she was positive that he would ask why she wanted to know about it. Not to mention the fact that, if she sent him a letter it was possible that he would only be able to answer by the end of the month.

Not really helpful.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section and Charlotte marched straight to the session with all the books about Hogwarts, dated from a century ago.

The black haired boy had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him. "You'd better get out, then. Go on — out!"

Charlotte watched the scene play out with an amused glint in her greys eyes. She shut the book she was currently holding, not finding anything remotely helpful. Holding back at groan at her failure, other two books forgotten over a table at her side, she decided to put everything back in their shelves.

A few steps away from her place, apparently Harry wasn't quick enough at thinking up some story, so he left the library, Charlie following silently behind his crestfallen figure. He, Charlotte, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

The duo waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but they weren't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

In a few days, Hermione would be leaving with her parents. they were traveling somewhere near London and they wouldn't be returning in time for the Christmas day. Luckily, Charlotte had requested the items on her list of presents a few days back, so everything should be arriving soon—she could give Hermione's present before she left.

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

Charlotte didn't hold back her snort at the ginger's puzzled face, linking her arms with the other girl as they sauntered away.

oOo

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork — bread, English muffins, marshmallows — and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family — in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send _him,_ we can afford to lose _him._ "

While the boys were making themselves comfortable downstairs, Charlotte hadn't left her dormitory yet—she was kind of enjoying the silence in the room, now that Lavender and Parvati weren't there. She had nothing against the Indian girl. Actually she could be pretty nice. Though Lavender got to her nerves, and the last thing she wanted was to be in a mood in her first Christmas at Hogwarts.

She missed her bushy haired friend, though. Things would be way better if she was here, but she understood that Hermione wanted to spend a time with her parents after not seeing them for months.

The hours ticked by, and she let herself curl in the sheets, wrappings of Cauldron cakes and Pumpkin Pasties across the floor around her bed—if only Hermione could presence the mess she was making in their dorm, she would go berserk.

For the first time, her friend wasn't there to keep things clean and organized. Not that she minded that much—it made her feel like she was back home. Her bedroom resembled a battlefield most of the times…if Remus didn't order her to clean it or ended up doing it himself.

Running her fingers through her dark hair, she got up from her laying position and decided to change before going to bed. She wasted basically the whole day just hanging in the dormitory, doing nothing but sketching and having her fill of sweets. It was barely past eleven p.m., she glanced at Parvati's nightstand to see the hour on her clock.

Charlotte lazily sat on her bed, stretching her arms above her head, then she moved to kneel in front of her trunk, taking her nightclothes with her. As she was standing, the young witch noticed the jacket her godfather gave her, laying over the end of her bed.

She stepped forwards and clutched the jacket in her small hands, twirling around to go back to tuck it inside her trunk. In a misstep, however, she accidentally tripped over one of her charcoal pencils on the floor– the irony-, and lost her balance, her hands straightened in front of her to stop the fall.

It didn't work, though, and she almost fell flat on her face, the jacket escaping from her clutch, landing a few inches away from her reach. Letting out a hiss as she felt a stinging sensation at her foot, Charlie grimaced when she got up, however, immediately stopping when she heard the sound of something rolling on the wooden floor.

Her eyes caught something in the corner—a little vial with a swirling mist inside of it. It was hard to see in the darkness of the corner it got to. Stumbling across the room, the girl squinted her orbs at the glass thing as she held it directly in her eyesight.

Where did it came from?

Surveying around the room, she wondered if it belonged to one of her two roommates—she was positively sure it wasn't Hermione's, she never seen it with her before. Praying she hadn't broken anything, she checked the container for any fissures or scratches, grateful and relieved to find none. But then again, she did spot something else entirely.

The lid, a bright gold color, had three letters at its top. If she had blinked twice, she would never even notice it.

R.J.L.

This was Remus'?

Of course she had seen the man carrying vials like this tons of times in the past. He was always using it for his doses of wolfsbane. She'd never noticed her guardian engraved his initials on it, however.

So it was meant to be hers… Charlotte only needed to find out what exactly it was for.

Retrieving the jacket from the ground, she slipped the vial inside one of the inner pockets of the clothing, and carefully this time, laid it over Hermione's bed. No one would be in the dorm but her, so it was okay.

With her pajamas in hand, she went to the bathroom to change, then fell in a dreamless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

oOo

Despite her attempts, Charlotte didn't figure out anything about the flask with the mist the next days, and was feeling very disappointed because of it. She carried the leathery cloth up and down the castle with her, hoping to find an answer. Harry and Ron questioned her about it, "Why are you acting like a madwoman?", and she would ignore them ever so nicely – oh, the sarcasm-, feeling too frustrated with everything to spare them a glance.

Her bad mood was gone once she woke up at Christmas morning.

There was a large pile of gifts at the end of her bed—she knew who most of them were from. Maurice chirped behind her, perched at the windowsill and obviously enjoying the cold breeze.

"Morning, Mau'," her hand came across the remaining of a cereal bar and crushed it slightly before extending it to the owl, who took it appreciatively and began nibbling at it.

Not even getting up from her warm and comfortable bed, she crawled closer to the presents and wasted no time in opening them.

She gained a new kit of endless pencils of all imaginable colors from Tonks. It had a charm that made it so the pencils would never come to an end. She loved it. From Andy, she got a beautiful silver bracelet with two pendants: one being a star, and the other a dog. She knew what it stood for, and she vowed to never take it off. Ted bought her a brand new book of ' _Beauty and the Beast'_ and she was really grateful, because her old one was almost losing its cover.

Mr. Weasley sent her a muggle game – of course he would, she thought with a smile. He was obsessed with muggle things- she never played before, but she would try it soon. Ms. Weasley made her a nice, deep purple scarf and gloves, not to mention a dark blue jumper with her initial in grey color at the middle. Molly's jumpers always made her feel so loved. Charlotte didn't get the reason Ron didn't wear them.

Fred and George, bought her a lot of pranking items from Zonke's. To think she would only be able to visit the store in her third year… Ron got her a box filled with one of her favorite chocolate, ' _Thanks, Ron'_. Hermione gave her a book, not surprising, about the different types of magical creatures, something she knew Charlie liked, and Harry gave her a snow globe with a miniature of Hogwarts and a stuffed dog. It was really adorable.

Even the teachers got her something. Hagrid's present was a nice fingerless glove, though she had no idea as to what it was made of. Professor McGonagall's was a case with a sketchbook inside of it. The girl was touched that the woman gave her something like that—she was expecting a book, to be honest. And lastly, even Professor Dumbledore had bought her something. It was an enchanted tiny piano of the size of her fist, that played by itself. Its melody was really soothing—this would be nice to listen every night.

When she was done, Charlotte scrambled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day. She didn't take too long to leave, giving a glance at the bed right beside hers, deciding to put on the jacket and finally leaving the room.

She hadn't seen Chip at the dorm this morning, so she guessed he was taking a stroll around the grounds. Charlotte shrugged to herself and went to the boys' dormitory.

oOo

"… _Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?_ "

Harry's voice came from the other side of the door the moment she got upstairs.

" _I think I know who that one's from_ ," She heard Ron say. " _My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and — oh, no_ ," he groaned, " _she's made you a Weasley sweater_."

Moving from her spot, her enclosed the doorknob and twisted, letting her from enter their eyesight. "Knock, knock. Merry Christmas, boys!"

"Merry Christmas, Charlie." They spoke in unison, grinning at her as she closed the behind her.

Charlotte grinned back, and looking down, she pointed at Harry's hands. Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Ms. Weasley?" and he nodded. "I always loved her sweaters—she made a lot of them for me since I was a child. Don't know why you never wear yours, Ron."

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's _always_ maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

"It's maroon." He gave emphasis to the word, grimacing at the color.

"Don't see the matter…"

Charlotte dismissed his excuse with a wave of her hand, choosing to sit at what she presumed to be Neville's bed, watching as Harry unwrapped the last of his presents.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped and Charlotte widened her eyes, but for different reasons.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is — they're really rare, and _really_ valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material. Wait a second… Remus told her that James had a cloak like that, and they used it all the time when they were at Hogwarts.

This couldn't be just a coincidence.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is — try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. "It _is_! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

Something in the ground caught the attention of the other two behind Harry.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you._

 _Use it well._

 _A Very Merry Christmas to you._

Charlotte listened as she read it out loud. There was no signature.

In her mind, she had two hunches of who could have wrote that: Hagrid or Dumbledore. The last was most likely, since the headmaster enjoyed being all mysterious, confusing everyone with his enigmas.

That wise old man…

Well, at least she knew she was right. The cloak was indeed James'.

Harry was staring at the note, while Ron admired the cloak.

"I'd give _anything_ for one of these," he said. " _Anything._ What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Before they could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Ouch—what do you mean with 'not family', you morons?"

Surprised because they didn't notice her sitting there when they barged in, the twins plopped down on the bed, both at each side of her, squeezing her between them.

"Fair Lady! My sincere apologies!"

"It was not our intention to hurt your feelings!" Fred pretended to be ashamed, but ended up ruffling her hair jokingly.

"Hey, stop that—"

The girl tried to slap his hands away, to no avail.

"You don't count, little Lottie. Mum absolutely adores you."

"Right you are, George. One would think you're her favorite child, and you're not even her daughter—look at her sweater!" the ginger head pouted, tugging the end of the blue material. "That's so unfair!"

He let go of her and threw himself, in a way too dramatic manner, on the bed, making the girl roll her eyes at him, but she was never able to keep a smile off her face when these two were around.

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew. Charlotte thought it was well deserved. The guy should stop with that annoying superior attitude of his for five minutes.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater, leaving the three friends watching they walk away with entertained grins on their faces.

oOo

The trio hanged in the common room for a while, and headed to the Great Hall for the meal. It was like a chain reaction the way Harry, Ron and Charlotte started to salivate the moment the doors opened and the delicious smell of food hit their nostrils.

A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce — and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry and Charlotte watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

Alright then…

In midst of breakfast, an owl flew by her and dropped a little note on her lap—only it wasn't Maurice. Charlotte observed the owl make its way to the Staff table, and land atop of the podium, right where Professor Dumbledore stood. His blue eyes met hers over his half-moon lens—they were twinkling with a meaningful look on them, offering her a subtle nod of his head.

Her eyebrows scrunched as she read.

 _I sincerely request that you join me after your afternoon activities._

 _One should open their eyes to the possibility of discovery of something truly splendid at the end of the journey, instead of standing blindly at the brink of ignorance._

 _~Very Merry Christmas ~_

Stealing another glance at the Headmaster from her place at the Gryffindor table, the only reaction she got out of him was a wink, before he turned around and resumed his chat with Professor Flitwick.

Leave it to him to completely mess up with her head with a single note. She had no idea of what he meant.

Deciding to ignore it for the meantime, Charlotte and her friends finally left the table. Harry was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers – the twins fault-, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and they had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Charlotte, Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

The snow crunched beneath their feet as they strolled through the grounds, Charlotte was telling them about the vial she found a few nights back and Dumbledore's note. Harry and Ron were just as confused as she was.

Where was Hermione when you needed her?

"Where is it?" Ron nudged her with his elbow. Stopping under a tree, Charlie opened the jacket and looked inside the pocket for the flask. She found nothing though. Her eyes narrowed.

She didn't lose it; Charlotte was entirely sure of it.

The only time she took it was when she saw the vial for the first time, and then she shoved it in the pocket. She'd been so careful—if it had fallen off somewhere she would have notice.

"What was it?"

Harry's voice startled her, and she merely spared him a brief glance before she knelt down on the snow, taking her jacket off and searched for the little container. "I can't find it…"

Almost five minutes afterwards, and she still wasn't successful.

"This must be a joke."

Groaning in defeat, she stood up and brought the clothe with her rather forcefully. It did the trick.

Right when she turned the jacket upside down, something fell from it, falling onto the snowy ground soundlessly. "What— "

Harry took it for her, returning it to her waiting hands. "Here."

"Thanks," Charlie examined the vial. "I don't understand, though. It wasn't here one second ago, so how— "Trying to make a point, she dropped the little thing within the pocket, watching with surprise as the flask disappeared in front of their eyes.

"Bloody hell, Charlie…how did you do that?"

She shook her head, her lips tilting upwards. "It wasn't me, Ron." Letting it drop from the clothe once more, the three saw the vial in her hands. "It must be some sort of Concealment Charm. How could I forget that?"

Whispering the last part to herself, she shook her head again.

"That's so cool, imagine what we could do with it…"

She drowned out the rest, too focused on her thoughts to pay attention to Ron's ramblings.

' _Moony…_ '

Why she wasn't surprised?

She definitely loved her godfather.

oOo

They parted ways as they returned to the castle. While the boys went to their dormitory, Charlotte made her way to Dumbledore's office. Now she was left standing in front of the gargoyle's passage.

She tried to pass through but the gargoyle did not move. It must require a password, she though. How was she supposed to know?

"Ah…I don't have one."

If the statue could talk, she bet it would say something along the lines of " _If you have no password, then you're not allowed to proceed."_

Holding back a whine, she grimaced. Charlotte wanted to go to bed—she was exhausted.

"Professor Dumbledore told me to come… could you, please, let me in this time? I promise I'll have your password the next time."

The gargoyle fixed her with a stare, or at least it felt like it, and she could not help but to stay still as a rock. Normally, she would have demanded to see the Headmaster – probably, she would have insulted the gargoyle a few things, by now-, however, last thing she desired was to be seeing bickering with a statue.

A few moments of tense silence, the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind her split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As she stepped onto it, Charlotte heard the wall thud closed behind her. Charlie rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, the girl saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

Moving forwards, she raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she could. Charlotte let herself in, taking into the sight.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also a wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat.

Distracted with looking around, she jumped in fright when someone came up behind her.

"Goodnight, Charlotte."

Dumbledore came from the back of his office, his steps were nearly inaudible as he took a sit in his chair and urged for her to do the same, extending his hand towards a chair directly in front of his desk.

Making herself comfortable, she waited for him to say something.

"Are you aware of the reason I called you here, Charlotte?" She shook her head and, if she admitted to herself, was feeling a bit nervous.

"No need to worry, Ms. Black. You've done nothing wrong," Yet. "It came to my attention that you received quite a peculiar gift from Remus. Am I correct?" She gave him a nod. "Do you know what it is?"

He patiently waited for her answer, folding his hands together over his lap.

"He gave me a jacket a few days ago… I just found out today—I guess. It has a concealment charm, perhaps?" It came more like a question than a statement. Dumbledore seemed pleased for some reason.

"Yes, yes… You are, indeed, correct, Charlotte. Nice deducted." He said, making her cheeks feel warm for the praise. "Remus supposed it would be a useful thing to have—"

Dumbledore paused.

"And what of the other one?"

Charlotte stared at the smiling man, shaking her head. "Frankly, I still don't know what it that." her fingers tapped the arm of the chair she was sitting in nervous habit.

"May I see it?"

Nodding, she overturned the inner pocket of the jacket, the vial making an appearance when it landed on her hand. She gave it to Professor Dumbledore who took it from her grasp, and carefully inspected it.

"Ah, I see…" at her puzzled expression, he continued. "This is filled with memories. Remus', to be precise."

Memories?

"Wait, he gave me his memories? How— ", Dumbledore stood up and raised a hand, mentioning for her to follow. Charlotte obeyed, observing as she walked to something akin to a sink with what looked like a metal basin, into which runes and strange symbols are carved and precious stones are fitted. It was filled with a silvery substance that appears to be a cloud-like liquid or gas.

"What is this, Professor?"

"This is a pensive." A what? "This allows one to collect their memories, if they so wish to examine them in future. A third person would be allowed to see them as well. You see—Remus put some of his memories inside of this vial so you be able to testify some of them. Do you have any guess of what Remus would want you to see?"

Charlotte thought about it for a moment. Hold on… her eyes widened.

His days at Hogwarts.

His friends.

Her parents.

"Yeah, I do."

Dumbledore didn't need for her to elaborate. He knew.

That night, before she took her leave, Professor Dumbledore promised to show her the memories in two days. Their settled a meeting after dinner, and she would come to his office to take a look at Remus' memories. She couldn't wait for it.

That night she went to her bed with a smile on her face. ' _Thank you, Moony_.'

oOo

Charlotte fell asleep, unaware that someone just got out of their room the moment she closed the door of her own.

Harry crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Step- ping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence — the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside — stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library — Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him — the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed — for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirrors trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air — she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes — _her eyes are just like mine,_ Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobby knees — Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

oOo

"Are you serious?"

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"You two can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

Harry told them.

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly. Charlotte nodded in agreement, but felt as if there was something wrong about the situation. She didn't say anything, though.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone." Harry grinned, then turned to Charlie. "I want to see Remus and the rest of your family, too."

She shrugged. "Not that many people to see."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron, and he was right. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the threeheaded dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."

"Harry?" His silence was worrying her. Her friend was, in fact, behaving oddly.

oOo

With all the three of them covered in the cloak, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."

" _No_!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."

"I've never been at this part of the castle…Are you sure, Harry?"

Charlotte looked around.

"I am, don't worry."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here — just here — yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything."

Charlie only shook her head. This was getting too weird for her. However, she noticed a few strange words at the top of the frame. While the boys talked behind her, the girl was trying to decode it.

It was really hard and she for a second she almost gave up. Almost.

Suddenly the code became clear to her as she whispered the words, forgetting she had company.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire."

Harry and Ron looked at her in confusion.

"Where did you see that?"

She pointed at the mirror. "That's what it means. It was just backwards."

The other two hummed, but in the end, didn't gave much thought about it. So they decided to resume their conversation.

"Look! Look at them all . . . there are loads of them..."

"I can only see you, Harry."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am." He gestured for ginger boy to go first.

Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"What?" Charlotte inquired.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No — I'm alone — but I'm different — I look older — and I'm Head Boy!"

" _What_?"

The witch stopped at Harry's left, trying to see the same as Ron. "What are you talking about? I see nothing different…" A frown adorned her features.

"I am — I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to — and I'm holding the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup — I'm Quidditch captain, too!"

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

Charlotte took advantage of his distraction to take a peek herself. Stopping in front of the mirror, she waited for something to happen like it did to Harry and Ron.

What she saw made her gasp, and instantly she could feel her eyes moistening with tears. If out of shock or happiness, she didn't know. She heard her friends' voices calling her name behind her, but they seemed so distant. All she could focus on right now, was the four persons in the mirror.

One of them was herself, yet it was an older version of her.

The others were her parents and Remus. She couldn't quite get why her godfather was there for a moment, because he was still here with her, however, it didn't take too long for her to figure it out.

Remus didn't seem the sad, tired person she knew. In the reflection, he looked so much younger. Happier. And she realized the reason.

He was not a werewolf.

He wasn't a cursed man with self-hatred.

Remus was a normal man that didn't have to go through suffering every single full moon, living with the fear of hurting someone. Of being a monster.

A tear ran down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away.

Her parents… merlin.

They stood at each side of her—their hands on her shoulder, happy and proud faces smiling back at me. Her heart clenched, because she could not feel their touch. Everything was just an illusion, she understood. Charlotte could not stop staring, nevertheless.

All of the wished whispered into the night, the dreams… everything rushed back to her.

Her mother alive.

Her father innocent and free.

A family.

She tried to move on. To forget the pain.

She failed.

"Charlie,"

The figures in the mirror offered her a last smile and disappeared.

Charlotte backed away from it, ignoring the boys, going to a corner of the room and sitting at the ground. The girl was grateful when they let her be and started talking.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead — let me have another look —"

"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch Cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me —"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking. Charlotte didn't care if she got caught, so she just remained in the same spot.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came around the door, rushing to Charlotte's side when he realized she wasn't moving, and also pulled her under the cloak. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the same thing — did the cloak work on cats? Charlotte was silent. After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe — she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron pulled them out of the room and they went to the common room.

When they passed the Fat Lady, Charlotte went straight to her dormitory, only wishing to be alone for a while. She couldn't say her Christmas was a total disaster, but it wasn't the best one she had.

A few teardrops escaped her eyes as she tucked herself into her bed. She needed to be strong—if not for her, then for Remus. Charlotte sniffled, closing her eyes. The next day would be better. She would be able to see them, even if in a memory.

It wasn't the real thing, but at least it was something.

Her eyes spotted the vial with the swirling memories at her nightstand.

' _Tomorrow night'_ , she thought, finally falling asleep.

oOo


	12. Ghosts of our Past

**I know, I know. I'm the worst ever. Long eight months without an update, but here I am. I told you guys I wouldn't be abandoning this fic, no matter how long I take to post it. I just have one thing to say: Author's block really sucks. Writing the beginning of this chapter was easy, but some things happened in my life that completely took all of my inspiration away. I would try to write and I didn't get more than a few words. It was really frustrating! I'm happy to say I'm back and that the next chapter won't take too long to be posted.**

 **Thanks to everyone that still reads this and, again, I'm sorry for leaving you waiting like this. ;)**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything except Charlotte, Isabelle and eventual OCs.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 11: Ghosts of our past**

 **.**

"Potter!"

"Sirius!"

The laughter was interrupted when two fuming girls came marching from the castle and headed over to the four boys that were contently sitting under a tree. Said boy looked up from the strange piece of parchment in his hands and noticed both the girl he liked and one of his best friends fixing them with a glare.

Why would that be?

Their uniforms had been charmed. The skirts, unlike the usual knee length it used to have, were now stopping by their mid-thigh, showing off a lot more of skin than it was permitted—or they were used to. Not to mention their shirts were uncomfortably tight at their chest.

It was pointless to say the two got a more than a few looks – mostly from the boys, unsurprisingly – from the moment they stepped out of their dormitory. And before one can ask, the duo even tried to find a spare uniform, but it seemed like they all but vanished like magic. Pun intended.

In the end, they had no choice but to leave their room, faces red with anger and minds planning revenge. Evidently, they knew who was the culprit, and he would pay— _they_ would.

"Lily-Flower! Bells! What a delightful surprise!"

James raised up from the ground, stretching his arms in a welcoming manner, a mischievous smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth as his hazel eyes trailed up and down their figures. "Hmm…there's something different about you—did you cut your hair?"

In response to his mocking tone, Isabelle grasped one of the backpacks on the ground – recognizing it as James' ( _even better)_ – and hurled it at the boy, aiming at his head, although he dodged just in time, making it hit the tree and bounce back to the grass.

"Do you think this is funny?" She pointed to her clothes, narrowing her eyes at him.

By the snickers she heard coming from the other boys behind James, she knew they were very much amused with the situation. He fixed his glasses with his forefinger, trying not to grin or laugh, but failed miserably.

"I don't know what you mean, Bells… right, Padfoot?" He spoke with an innocent face, nudging his friend's knee with his foot, before changing it to a contemplative one. "I love the change in the wardrobe, by the way."

That's when Lily snapped.

The red-head flung herself at him, ready to strangle his neck—it did nothing but amuse him even further, if that was possible.

"Your arrogant toe-rag!" Her hands slapped him repeatedly on his chest while he tried to avoid the blows coming from the furious sixth-year girl. And if someone looked quick enough they would miss the hurt flashing in his eyes that was gone in a second, before he schooled his expression into one of indifference. Everyone – and literally every single person- in the whole Hogwarts knew about the infatuation James had for Lily Evans. He made his feelings pretty clear their first year and had been asking her out ever since.

And was rejected on every occasion.

It wasn't a pleasant sight at all. His friends felt bad for him because they could see how much James liked the girl and how it hurt him every time she said no—worst of all when she insulted him like she just did. Sure, he could be immature at times, and she even had reasons to scream at him when he acted like an idiot.

Did that make it hurt any less?

Well…no.

So whenever that happened, James Potter simply put on a smiley face, pretending that everything was alright. But it wasn't. His friends could see it.

Isabelle saw right through him. And even though she was mad at him, he was still one of her best friends—regardless of him always making a completely fool out of himself or getting on her nerves most of the times.

Sighing in an attempt to lessen her annoyance, the brunette seized Lily's elbows and, with some difficulty because her friend was trying to get free, dragged her away from James.

"…. you landed us in detention, Potter! Again!"

"Lily—enough…it's okay." She had to admit. Her best friend was one strong girl because she had to use a lot of her own strength to keep her from attacking James again. Yet, she didn't release her hold.

"What-why? Look at what he's done—"

"Not the first time, Lily" Rolling her eyes, she recalled every other embarrassing situation they had to suffer because of the boys. "Besides, he not the only one at fault here. Relax."

"But—"

There was a bark like laugh coming from the dark-haired boy next to James.

"Yeah, Evans. _Relax_." He mocked the brunette. "What's got your wand in a knot?"

Before the girl, who had turned as red as her hair in rage, could even retort or think about punching that stupid smirk of his out of his face, someone – as in the other mad girl beside her – had pushed past her and the others and stopped right in front of Sirius, and didn't even bother when he offered her what was meant to be a charming smile.

"'ello, love"

He attempted to say more, but Isabelle quickly grabbed a chunk of his dark hair and pulled it, making him jump right on the spot hissing in pain. Not even giving him time to utter a single word, the girl, with one strong pull, brought Sirius to his feet and dragged him to stand right next to James.

Behind them, Peter let out what he thought was a low snicker, though everyone heard—the brunette fixed him with a glare that promised that he would be next if he didn't keep quiet. He gulped and scurried to hide behind the last boy's figure.

Remus sighed and shook his head.

His friends were such dimwits. No wonder they were always getting on the girls' nerves.

For years, he watched as Sirius and James tried to impress them, but making a completely fool out of themselves was the only thing they ever achieved. Not to say that they were shallow and stupid—far from that actually. Behind the whole 'I-don't-care-about-anything' front they put on when around everyone else, the boys were really smart – although they weren't the best at classes like Remus himself – and they were the greatest friends one could have.

They stuck by Remus through everything—even after they came to know of his werewolf nature, his friends, never once, made him feel a dangerous beast. In fact, they went great lengths to help him through his transformation, spending three years hiding the fact they were trying to become an Animagus just to be able to keep him company on every full moon.

Sirius, James and Peter were the very definition of friends for life.

Not everybody saw it that way, unfortunately.

In their eyes, Sirius and James especially, were nothing but a pair of troublemakers with an ego bigger than their heads—from time to time causing ruckus around the castle like the attention-seeking prats everyone saw them as, having no regard for people's feelings whatsoever.

They never bothered to correct them, though. Remus wondered why his friends wanted to be viewed as such.

The boy scoffed silently to himself, recalling all the moments in their dorm with James and Sirius whining about how Belle and Lily didn't show any interest like the rest of the other girls did—the way the boys were interested in them.

No one could say it was really a surprise, because even if they wished to say something nice or smart for once, whenever the two girls were around they simply turned into retards, spilling whatever thoughts were running through their heads—Thus they tended to say something stupid that made Lily walk away from them, Belle not taking long to roll her eyes at them before following her friend.

Obviously, the brunette couldn't stay mad at them for long—not because she was the kind of girl to 'forgive and forget', but usually because she always did something to payback. Remus was only grateful that the others were her target, most of the times because he'd never dare to prank her like his friends did.

Isabelle could be quite frightening when she wanted to be, though she had a big heart and not counting all the times she was in a rampage mood, she was kind and a great listener.

Perhaps that was the reason why the werewolf boy was so comfortable around her—not that he wasn't with James, Sirius and Peter. It was just…different.

No. He didn't have feelings for her like that, even with the number of people pointing so, or asking if the two of them were in a relationship (Sirius got a look in his eyes like he just tasted something sour whenever he was around). That happened every single time he heard something of the sort, no matter that Remus himself assured him dozens of times that they were just friends.

In fact, Isabelle was way more than a friend, he thought.

Isabelle Selwyn was his little sister. Not by blood, of course. However, blood wasn't relevant to him.

He just had to remember Sirius.

Living in a house full of muggleborn hating people, whose nose were always so up in the air that it might even touch the ceiling. A prejudiced lot that did nothing but discourage and humiliate him throughout his entire life.

That was no family.

They shared blood, and yet, it did not count in the end.

So, yes… Isabelle was his sister like the boys were his brothers.

She was the first to discover his secret, even if the girl kept quiet about it with him. She spent weeks trying to find a way to help him, getting frustrated whenever she couldn't find anything.

It was one night in midsummer that Remus found her hidden behind a pile of books on the floor, pieces of scribbled parchment scattered all around her. He was taken back when he noticed her appearance. Messy hair, disheveled clothes, dark bags under her eyes—she looked like she hadn't sleep for days, with the way her eyes fought not to shut close.

Isabelle was so distracted that she failed to notice him the moment he stepped closer to her hunched figure. She was too busy chewing her nails off and pulling her hair. Only when he coughed awkwardly she glanced up from the current book she was surveying.

To say she was surprised would be the understatement of the year.

Honestly, Remus could not fathom if he should be amused or worried about how she fidgeted under his gaze and hurriedly try to shove the papers inside her bag, greeting him as if nothing was wrong.

Not that Remus believed it one bit.

It took a while, but he managed to get the truth out of her.

She explained how she had put two and two together after the countless time he went missing whenever it was a full moon, constantly with the same excuse that his mother fell ill. It was enough to make her suspicious, but she thought it was something related to his mother, at first. However, it was difficult to find another answer because Remus looked sick whenever he left, and then he was back at Hogwarts, looking as good as new.

Having read about werewolves before, it wasn't long before she recognized the symptoms—much to her surprise, Isabelle didn't feel scared at all. She knew; however, how vicious and bloodthirsty werewolves were, yet her mind refused to see Remus as such.

Just the mere thought of the kindest boy she'd ever met, suffering every single full moon by himself, unable to do anything but wait for the excruciating pain of breaking bones as soon as the transformation began…it made her heart clench for poor Remus.

Her decision was made then.

She promised herself that she'd never stop until she found a way to help him—not matter what it took or the number of times that the boy himself tried to dissuade her after he figured it out what she was doing.

Even as time passed, her promise wasn't broken.

And Remus Lupin would be forever grateful for the marvelous opportunity he received as Isabelle Selwyn entered his life.

oOo

The Great Hall burst into a loud laughter as the door busted open and two boys came barging inside. That would be completely confusing if it wasn't for the fact that the duo was dripping wet, half-naked with only their underwear as a cover—underwear that had the face of the Headmaster glaring at everyone from their…behinds.

And if it wasn't enough already, the boys were, for the lack of another word—well…bald. Every strand of their otherwise perfect and shiny hair was missing from their heads. It wasn't a really pretty sight but a very humorous one.

From the teacher's table, Professor McGonagall's face contorted into a grim expression as she took into the improper vision of James Potter and Sirius Black standing amidst the hundreds of other students that were definitely oblivious as to the Head of Gryffindor getting up from her seat, her eyes full of wisdom hardening as she walked straight to the cause of ruckus.

"Looking good, Potter!"

"Hey, Sirius, loved the underwear!"

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Black! Would you do me the favor of explaining all of this?"

The Gryffindor boys drowned out the sneers and comments echoing around the room, as soon as the voice reached their ears, making them automatically tense for they felt the dark vibes coming from behind their backs.

Midst the laughing mass of students, Belle and Lily sat with the remaining Marauders—they were laughing their asses off, except for Remus, of course, who rolled his eyes, but nonetheless had a grin on his face. However, none was having more fun than Isabelle herself.

 _That should teach them not to mess with them again._

Her face was challenging as she fixed her bright eyes on their motionless figures, her chin resting on her hand, elbow propped on the table. When the three sets of eyes met each other, the girl waved cynically at them—only a fool wouldn't have noticed the pleased glint her eyes held. Belle was responsible for the whole thing… and she wanted them to know it.

"Minnie! You're looking strikingly exquisite this morning."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. After years of trying to make him stop calling her that, the Headmistress accepted that it wouldn't happen anytime soon, and simply started ignoring him each time. Though you could certainly see her jaw clenching as if she was stopping herself from swearing or hexing him into oblivion.

"Mr. Black, seeing that you're in a quite cheery mood, am I right to assume that you are responsible for this?"

Sirius stopped for a second, staring at Professor McGonagall before he threw a subtle glance at a specific spot on the Gryffindor table. Both the ginger girl and the chubby blond boy tensed—Lily thought she was a goner. He would tell their Headmistress who was responsible for it and only Merlin knows what McGonagall would do to them.

Turning to the sit beside her, the girl faced her best friend only to notice that Belle didn't seem worried at all—if anything, the brunette was trying to muffle her snickers by shoving a mouthful of pancakes down her throat.

Wasn't she worried that she would get in trouble for it?

Not really. In the end, she knew, the boys would take the blame for the scheme—they always did.

As she expected, Sirius shook his head a grin forming at the corner of his lips, and was probably formulating something in his head, however, James was faster, and just like his friend, was grinning. "Why, Professor… being the thoughtful, kind blokes we are, Sirius and I were just thinking that everything just seemed so gloom and doom around here—well, what better way to help than doing something extraordinary once in a while."

James was a bloody idiot.

The dark-haired boy standing at his side could not help but let an amused chuckle escape, even though he was fighting the urge to smack his friend over the head for saying something so ridiculous.

The Marauders – mostly James and Sirius- would do something to get on her nerves and she would retaliate by pranking them. Never once she got detention…not for being caught because of a prank, at least. That could easily be explained by the fact that, as not to admit defeat- especially to her-, the two gits would pretend to be the masterminds behind it, and so, being blamed in her place every time it happened…which was on a daily basis.

There would be a payback for that, she knew. It was a never-ending cycle. She was more than aware that there was absolutely no bloody way that Sirius and James would pass up any opportunity to prank someone—even if said someone was called Lily Evans or Isabelle Selwyn.

It didn't matter if she got revenge on them. In fact, they liked when she did. And to be honest, so did she.

She would be the first to admit the stupidity of all of it, nevertheless, it was the way they acted around each other. At first, it was completely annoying how they were most often than not trying to get under her skin. With time, it evolved into something of their own—not even Lily, her best friend, was a part of it.

An inside joke only they were aware of. And even if she had a desire to strangle them when they were behaving like morons, Belle was their friend.

She was a Marauder.

oOo

December 17th, 1977

"She finally said yes!"

As an automatic response to that, the chatter decreased until it reached a full stop, leaving only an awkward silence to fill the room. At once, dozens of pair of eyes went to where the voice came from, making them stop whatever they were doing just to watch an exhilarated Sirius strutting into the Common Room with a slight spring in his step—one hand tucked inside his front pocket while the other ran through his messy dark locks.

No one had to ask or, in reality, think twice of one single reason that would make Sirius Black, Hogwarts' heartthrob, behave like a complete nutcase.

Many of the spectators to the scene, who were mostly sixth and seventh years, merely rolled their eyes at his figure and were quick to dismiss it as being one more of the Marauder's drama start—ignore him altogether seemed a more plausible thing to do rather than continue listening to, what they were certain was, any gibberish the group of pranksters were about to sprout.

They had more than enough the last past years at Hogwarts doing their best to endure the boys annoyingly loud antics.

"Oy, Padfoot!"

The dark-haired boy answered his best friend's call with a contagious grin, before he carelessly plopped down on the armchair beside Peter, leaning nearly his entire weight on the other's shoulder—the blond squeaked as he found himself toppling sideward towards Remus direction.

Before he could think, Sirius was already pulling him back by the nape of his white uniform shirt. The werewolf boy spared them a glance, shaking his head, before burying his head in his Charms book once again, nonetheless, his interest was piqued when Sirius and James started talking, so he just sat there in silence, listening.

"Hello, mates! Such a great, splendid, marvelous day, don't you agree?" The group watched with furrowed eyebrows as he let out an uncharacteristic dreamy sigh. "The sun is shining, the birds are singing outside and—"

"And Bells has totally lost her marbles…"

Not even the shameless snickers from his friends – and the others within ear range – after James' comment would be able to bring him from the cloud nine feeling at that moment, yet he did throw them a quick annoyed glance.

"Do not let the green-eyed monster get a hold on you, Prongs—just because Lilykins over there has yet to agree to go out with you." Sirius received a cushion to the face with a chuckle, ruffling Peter's hair, and playing choking him, while the last made a poor attempt at escaping the vice-like-hold.

"Sod off," the laughter finally came to an end with James full out pouting at his friend.

A book soundly hitting the coffee table startled them out of their cheery conversation. "What-"Lily was looking down at them, mostly having her green eyes fixated on Sirius as if trying to see through him.

The boy already had an idea of what was to come and released a long sigh, dreading the way this could end. "I know, I know..."

"Well-I certainly hope you do," her tone was condescending but there was an underlining threat in it. "I have no idea as to why Belle would even consider being around you for even a minute, much less agreeing to go out with you..."She wrinkled her nose. "But if she's happy, then great."

She took a menacing step towards Sirius, stopping right in front of him, her eyes completely serious as they gazed into his. "However, mark my words, Black, if you ever hurt her in any way, I swear I'll find a way to make you pay that will make everything Slytherins do look like a child's play. Do you understand?"

Her tone was calm and never once did her voice rise, so that no one but them could listen to her every word, yet it was about enough to leave the boys astounded for they'd never seen Lily talk like that.

Sirius knew where her concern came from.

He was nowhere near a perfect boyfriend material-being known as a flirt amongst the girls, not to mention all the baggage and the problems that came with the Black name. It was obvious that being Belle's best friend, Lily would get worried. The young man could never blame her for it.

Still, it was Isabelle Selwyn they were talking about.

She was more than just a pretty face. She was smart, loyal, brave, and so much more. In her company the haunting ghost of his past could not reach him-she would never let them.

Belle was different. Especial.

"I understand, Lily. "

And he did.

Maybe it was the conviction with which he talked, or the sincerity of his words, or even the way his grey eyes softened as if recalling siding related to Isabelle, but the redhead believed him.

Clearing her throat, Lily let her emotionless face drop and offered him a smile, a small one, but a smile nonetheless, then silently gathered her things and climbed the stairs to the dormitory without uttering anything else.

It took a few minutes to get rid of the odd mood the girl left with her departure, however the Marauders resumed their conversation as if nothing had ever happened—Sirius and James playful bickering filling the space, the former still had a glazed look in his eyes.

By dinnertime, when everyone was already full and satisfied with all of the mouth-watering food, the hallways filled with people shoving, talking and laughing, as they marched to their common rooms, the numerous torches and candles providing light enough to guide them to their destination.

"Wait for me!"

Someone passed by her, banging on her shoulder not looking back as books and several papers scattered across the floor. Isabelle cursed under her breath and watched as the culprit left with his friends, not caring that she was left to gather her things in the middle of a packed hall, trying her best to get everything and not have anyone step on her fallen parchments.

Only when her redheaded best friend came to her rescue, they were able to collect everything and finally squeeze through the crowd to reach their dorm. The duo climbed the whole staircase only stopping to tell the Fat Lady's portrait the password.

Everyone was mostly gone from the place, the only ones remaining, as usual, were the four prankster boys sitting by the fireplace, whom looked up as soon as the girls stepped within their vision.

"Hm…" James fell quiet all of a sudden, but it didn't take long for a smug grin started pulling at the corner of his mouth. "So, Bells…"

"Don't even start."

Ignoring her friend stupid gaze flickering between her figure and Sirius, Belle felt her cheeks reddening and she tried to cover up her embarrassment by clearing out her throat and tucking a loose dark strand behind her ear.

Everyone watched her reaction before she turned around and walked to the girl's staircase with Lily in tow, though she looked over her shoulder once. Her eyes met with grey ones, a fleeting, meaningful sparkle in them, and then the girls were out of sight, leaving three amused boys and a content one downstairs.

oOo

"I am not calling her that."

Was said for what appeared to be the hundredth time.

"What's wrong with the name?"

"I'm not calling her Olive. You know I hate olives, Sirius." The voice answered with finality, which made the other roll his eyes at his partner. A pregnant Isabelle, though an endearing sight to behold, could be quite a trying experience.

Sirius Black had, at least, much more luck than his own best friend, whose wife became a fierce, psycho woman—more than usual, in his opinion—that tended to explode at the minimal things ever since she got trial of how pregnancy hormones worked. Not that he dared say anything, for the devil itself sat just a few feet away from him, James' arm curled around her shoulder.

But then he was snapped back to reality as Sirius realized the hilarity of the situation, seeing Belle adorably pouting from her place on the couch where she laid caressing her prominent tummy. Leave it to her to reject any name only based on her food habits.

"What about Jamie?"

That made a chorus of groans echo around the room.

"For the last time, we are _not_ naming our daughter after you, Prongs!"

"It's not James, though."

"But it's close enough."

"Come on, Padfoot—"

"No."

"But—"

"Enough, you two." As always, Remus had to be the mediator between the two. He returned from the kitchen with a tray and laid it on the coffee table right in front of the two females, serving them tea before dropping down on the couch beside the dark-haired witch. "Last thing they need is to hear you quarrel like a pair of old ladies."

For weeks, the group of friends met regularly at the Black's household, sitting together in the living-room or by the porch, struggling to come up with dozens of names for the future newborn girl—it seemed, however, that whenever one of them came with a name they deemed nice enough, Isabelle was quick to contradict every single one of them, driving everyone nuts.

"Why don't you name her Cassiopeia or Aquila?"

The sweet voice of Lily Potter reverberated across the room, and, surprisingly, Sirius was the one who answered.

"No bloody way—" he barked and Belle send him a meaningful look that made him swallow whatever words he was going to say next.

"Hm…what Sirius mean is that we don't want to keep with this Black tradition thing." She told them, seeing the confused faces of their friends.

For generations, ever since the beginning of The Ancient House of Black, there was a very peculiar tradition of naming every child of Black blood after stars or constellations. Belle found really amusing the fact that Sirius was ironically named after the dog-star, also the brightest one in the sky, being that his parents turned out to consider him more of nuisance than the light at the of the tunnel of their lives.

"I know!" James animatedly shook his hand in the air, gaining a glare from the woman in his arms as he almost made her spill hot tea all over her floral dress. "Jaaa-" he trailed off when every head turned to him with the same non-impressed faces. "ne?"

Lily, if she hadn't her hands occupied, would have face-palmed herself. She married a completely idiot.

oOo

March 13th, 1980

A very distinct sound of a giggling infant in the midst of all the voices filled the cozy living-room. One-month old Charlotte blabbered cutely in her mother's embrace, big doe eyes blinking at the people around her, including her own father, who looked as if Christmas had come early and he was staring at the most marvelous gift he could ever receive.

Isabelle stood up with baby Charlotte in her arms, coming to a stop just as she reached Remus' side. The werewolf smile up at them from his place close to the fireplace, a mug clutched in his hand—there was an easy-going expression on his face, in contrast with the recurrent brooding look he, most than often, sported.

The moment the newest Black addition got within his reach, her chubby, pale arms, automatically, extended at his figure as if asking to hold her. It was clear that no one would be able to deny the child anything – not when she had those pretty grey eyes that could make anyone melt at the mere sight of it.

James and Lily were huddled in a corner watching everyone else, the last was already at the last months of pregnancy. Her husband never got tired of trying to get on her nerves by jokingly telling her something related to her weight, to which she would counter with something along the lines of 'This is no fat, James. This is just _your_ child making me look like a hippopotamus'.

Of course, Lily was already in love with the little bundle forming inside of her, but sometimes James could drive someone to utter madness.

Isabelle let Remus take her daughter from her arms before letting Sirius guide her to the loveseat. Yet, Charlotte didn't seem to mind or even notice her mother's absence, because the second her godfather cradled her tiny figure to his chest, she found herself content with playing with Remus' honey colored hair.

The man felt affection and pure adoration blooming in his chest when he stared down at her, happy that she didn't seem afraid of him. If anything, the girl appeared to have a strange connection with the werewolf—Sirius, for time to time, would mumble in jealously about the unfairness of it all. She was _his_ little girl, after all.

Remus kissed the crown of her head, a smile growing at his lips when she suddenly found herself fascinated with messing with his face. Her mouth was pulled into an adorable pout, nose scrunched up in concentration while her petite hands roamed across his cheekbones, poking at the skin, then tracing his eyebrow with her index finger.

There was no denying it. Charlotte Black was one cute baby.

All the while, none of them took notice of the lonely figure standing at one spot in the same room they were occupying – silent, eyes surveying the scene with an unknow emotion. The voices ran across the room as the minutes went by, and only when the clock struck midnight did the friends depart with their goodnights.

Yet again, no one saw the lonely figured disappearing into thin air, but not before leaving a last glance at the group. A mix of joy and sorrow.

oOo

"Thank you, Professor."

The floor creaked under her shoes. The Headmaster looked up at her from his half-moon glasses and offered her a smile, although it did not quite meet his usually twinkling blue eyes.

The dark-haired witch abandoned the basin with the swirling memories, and headed towards the door, her head still replaying everything she'd seen.

"Have a goodnight, Ms. Black." She could only nod at him in response, too numb to do anything else.

Even feeling eyes on her back, she didn't turn around. She needed to be alone and desperately wished for her bed, feeling exhaustion crash upon her heavily, however she knew it was not physical exhaustion.

With quick steps Charlotte exited the office and headed to her dormitory, the door closing behind her.

oOo


End file.
